


And Spirit

by Bead



Series: Pearl of the Evening [3]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Dwarf Culture, F/M, Hobbit Culture, Humor, M/M, Marriage, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 07:48:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/821800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bead/pseuds/Bead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a wedding.  And now there's a marriage, and everything after.  A series of adjustments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s note: After thinking about it a bit, I realized that Dwalin needed to tan that deerskin he was working on for at least four days, and the company really should gather more protein-type provisions to augment what Beorn supplied them with before braving Mirkwood. Not that I had any other reason for prolonging Billa and Thorin’s honeymoon in a cave. None whatsoever.
> 
> A million thanks to mynuet, beta and cheerleader.

~~~

 

Billa woke to another nosegay of wildflowers next to her head and her husband puttering around their chamber, trying to place a kettle in the makeshift brazier as quietly as possible. He wore nothing but his pants, and Billa took moment to appreciate the view. Snuggling into the furs, she took up her flowers to inhale their sweet fragrance.

“Good morning,” she called softly.

Thorin turned to offer her a warm smile. “And how is my wife?” he asked, sitting next to her on the pallet. He reached to brush her cheek.

“Mmm,” Billa hummed, stretching. “Very well, husband. Enjoying a bit of a lie-in. How are you?”

He stroked a hand down her blanket- and fur-draped body, his warm smile shading into something that quite took her breath away. “Very well indeed. I seem to be in possession of an enchanting wife.”

She blushed and tucked her face in the furs a moment, her toes curling in delight. “Wait. _Seem_ to be?”

“Hmm,” he replied, leaning down to nuzzle the furs aside to kiss her cheek. “You are right, I have a legal document that says you are mine.”

Billa snaked a hand out of her warm cocoon to tug his courtship braid. _“And?”_ she said, her eyebrows raised.

This time he kissed the corner of her mouth slowly, causing her to make a small sound of delight. “And I am yours as well, my pearl,” he murmured in her ear.

Uncurling from her warm cocoon, Billa stretched on a sigh, wound her arms around Thorin’s neck and held him close. He hummed contentedly and began to kiss from just below her ear down her throat, tugging the fur down a bit to better nuzzle at her collarbone before beginning to move lower, his intentions clear as he cupped her breast through the blanket. Inhaling sharply, Billa arched into the caress but stopped herself, and Thorin, with a tiny shove at his shoulder.

“I would like to continue this, my heart,” she apologized, “but I really must excuse myself a moment.”

“Hmm,” he replied, kissing her nose and moving to gather up her shift. Billa sat up and smiled to herself to see his eyes immediately drop to her breasts. She put the shift on very slowly, emerging to find her husband watching her with hunger.

“Return quickly,” he said in that voice that made her shiver, reaching out to trace his fingers around the outer curve of one breast.

“Of course,” she said softly and leaned forward to give him a quick kiss. “Think I’ll be all right if I just wrap a blanket over my shift? There’s not anyone standing watch close by that I’m going to scandalize, is there?”

“Not at the moment. Dwalin was kind enough to offer to fetch us breakfast before taking his rest this morning.”

“He stood watch all night?” Billa said, dismayed. “That hardly seems fair.”

Thorin smiled gently. “He has been my right hand for many years, my guard and trainer since I was a lad. He stood watch just up the hill from us, high enough to signal the lads farther down the path to the camp. It was a gift, last night, for him to stand close watch alone, and to honor you by allowing us as much privacy as possible.”

Billa swallowed hard. “Very kindly done,” she said faintly, trying to quell her horror. “He, um, wasn’t close enough to...” Billa gulped. “Hear...us, was he?”

Thorin stood and gave her a teasing look, clasping her arms loosely. “Well, he was within shouting distance should we have had need…”

She buried her face in his chest. “Please tell me I didn’t...” Thorin cleared his throat, but otherwise remained steadfastly quiet, though he stroked comforting hands down her arms. Billa beat her head lightly against his breastbone. “I will catch fire from blushing, I am sure of it.” His chest began to shake suspiciously, and she looked up at him, glaring. His eyes danced with mirth.

“I do not regret a moment of it, my pearl, not a sigh, not a cry, not a shout.” He tilted her chin up for a soft kiss then looked at her intently, his expression one of banked desire. “I relish every song you sing for me.” A kiss pressed the the corner of her mouth, and then he shrugged carefully. “We may snatch moments completely alone from time to time, as we did at the river, but such care – given with discretion and honor – from my people will be a part of our life.” He slid his hands up her arms and kissed her yet again, cradling her face tenderly. “I hope that it will not silence your songs, Mizim Azahyaz Alanjuzaz, for they are ones of joy. It would grieve me, and those who honor us with their protection, if they knew that joy was dimmed.”

Well. She had promised to grow into her new role. Putting some starch in her spine, Billa reached up to caress his forearms and turned her head to kiss one of his palms. She regarded him solemnly.

“I shall bear up,” she declared, twisting her face into an expression of humorous resignation. “Under the strain.”

He grinned, delighted, his relief quite clear, and hugged her close. After a moment, she pressed a few kisses against his chest and patted his waist. “Do let me go, my love, that I might come back quickly.”

“If I must,” he huffed and kissed her hair, then leaned back and regarded her. “Your hair is quite the sight.”

She reached up and touched what felt like an utter bird’s nest. “I was a bit active last night,” she retorted primly, and, drawing her blanket around her with great dignity, swept out of their chambers, his laughter echoing behind her.

On her way back to the cave, she met Dwalin coming up the path, makeshift stone tray in hand.

“Good morning,” she said cheerfully, willing herself not to blush. It was not entirely successful.

“My queen,” he greeted her, bowing. Billa’s mouth dropped open, and she shut it with a click, blinking, and cleared her throat.

“Mister Dwalin,” she said firmly. “Thank you. But there is no need…”

“Pardon me, my queen, there is,” he interrupted her gently. “We must start as we mean to go on. You are now our queen, and we are glad of it, every one.”

“You and the others do not always speak to Thorin so,” she pointed out.

“I do a few times a day, ma’am, as does my brother, though it’s a bit hard since we knew him as a stripling. The others not from Erebor are picking it up as well. It’s good for us and him, rootless for so many years, to remember that we walk toward a kingdom, and our home. When we are successful and our people return, those around the two of you should be seen giving you the proper respect.”

“I understand, but I would hate for my new role to distance me from the company, my friends.” She bit her lip and gave him a pained look.

“It may, a bit,” he said honestly, and gave her the kindest smile she’d ever had from him. “But you are still our burglar.”

Billa smiled gratefully, and tightened her makeshift cloak around her. “Thank you very much for bringing us breakfast, Mister Dwalin.”

“Dwalin, ma’am, Captain, or Captain Dwalin.”

“Captain?”

“Of Thorin’s royal guard, such as it is.”

Billa nodded. “I should have guessed that. Thank you, Captain Dwalin, for bringing us breakfast. And,” she took a deep breath, “for honoring us with your protection last night. I am...” This took a great deal of courage. “Very grateful.”

He gave her an approving look and a gracious nod. “I am proud to serve. Now, my queen,” he added briskly, “your breakfast is getting cold.”

“Yes. And you should be taking your ease after a long watch.” She reached for the tray, and he held it out of her reach.

“My queen,” he scolded softly.

Billa gave a Tookish growl, fists clenched impatiently, and his grin flashed bright.

“It’s a great slab of rock, Billa. Don’t be foolish.”

“Oh, fine,” she said, tossing her head and grinning at him. “Shall we?”

They walked companionably up the slope, and he gave her a sidelong look.

“You know,” he said, wincing a little. “Your braids look a fright.”

Laughing, she smacked his arm. Things were going to be just fine.

 

~~~


	2. Chapter 2

~~~

Billa called to Thorin cheerfully that breakfast had arrived, and he came out to them, smiling, still happily in as much of a state of undress as she. Quick flashes of memory came to her; him standing in the river, water gleaming on his bare skin, and last night, letting her look (but not touch) her fill. She tried not to blush and, again, was certain she failed miserably.

He caught some change in her expression, and there was a quick flash of heat in his gaze as his eyebrows rose. “There was talk of returning quickly, my wife,” he teased her.

Billa sniffed. “I met our dear captain in the woods, and received some excellent counsel,” she replied grandly. “I’m afraid our breakfast might have gone a bit cold.”

Thorin narrowed his eyes at Dwalin. “I was going to broach the subject of arms training with her later. I thought we agreed to wait.”

There was an awkward pause. Billa cleared her throat. “He did wait.”

Dwalin snorted with amusement, handed Thorin the tray and gave him a mighty clap on the back. For anyone but a dwarf, that would have left a mark, Billa thought.

“I bid you good morning, my king,” Dwalin rumbled, and bowed slightly to Billa. “My queen.” Billa inclined her head in reply.

“Thank you again, Captain. For the food and the counsel.”

Another half bow and he was off down the hill. When Billa turned to her husband, Thorin was giving her a tender, questioning look.

“You did not quibble at the title, the training, or, apparently, Dwalin’s counsel.”

“Well,” she said, tugging her blanket more closely around her shoulders. “He made a lot of sense about words and symbols, I suppose. And I am still rather rubbish with that sword.”

“Come,” Thorin said, “I can see you’re cold, my pearl.” Taking her elbow gently, he drew her inside, and sure enough, the inner room was as cozy as could be. Billa huddled near the brazier, warming her toes as Thorin set down their breakfast things to reheat a bit by the fire, and handed her a cup of tea he’d apparently made in her absence.

“Words and symbols?”

“Mm,” Billa nodded as the tea warmed her. “Given my new place, he said we should start as we mean to go on with my title, and how he and Balin use your title several times a day because it’s important to remind the others that we head not just toward home, but a kingdom.”

“Weighty matters for such a morning,” he rumbled, not disapproving. Billa grinned.

“And then he played keep-away with the tray and told me my hair looked a fright!”

Thorin shot a grimace at her hair. “The teasing pleased you?” He looked a little bewildered.

“Of course it did! It was, possibly, a bit of a reward for being sensible, but I was glad of it; I don’t want to lose what ground I’ve gained making friends. I’ve become very fond of them.”

Thorin tested the warmth of their porridge and scones. After looking at Billa for her preference, he handed her a bowl, settling next to her on the pallet, “And their friendship. That is important to you.”

Billa took a bite of the savory porridge, really rather a stew thick with grain instead of potatoes, as she pondered his question.

“Yes, it is. They are. All of you are.” She leaned against him a moment, a tiny, hands-free hug. “I’ve noticed as they’ve gone from fellows traveling together and mainly sticking with those they were already related to or had known for years, into a tight-knit group of, well, it might be to you brothers-in-arms, but I’ve not got much experience with warriors.” Billa paused to refill her teacup, and with Thorin utterly silent beside her, she realized that this had become an important conversation.

“I see them more like family as it ought to be, affection, friendship, and fierce loyalty. I have been, hmm, delighted is not quite the word, to be slowly included in that. Grateful. Certainly relieved. Tiring being alone in a crowd.”

Billa realized that she’d just reminded him of her difficult days with the company when Thorin tensed beside her. She deliberately melted against his shoulder, pressing a quick kiss on his bare skin. “I’ve always had dozen on dozens of relations around me, but only fortunate in a handful of folk I really trusted and loved who loved me as I am. I was never quite fully _in_ our community, just _of_ it. Most found me odd, strangely unmarried, too bookish, too much a Baggins or too much a Took.”

She took a sip of tea. “And now I am yours, you are mine, and your people have been so dear. Yesterday, they gathered ‘round to offer help, caring for me to do right by you; so very, very dear. Great hearts, every one. New role or no,” she continued, her voice suddenly fierce. “I mean to not to lose a bit of it.”

Thorin wrapped one arm around her and pressed a kiss to her hair. A gentle half-hug and he bent to his breakfast again. Billa, starting to get a bit worried at how quiet he was, forced down a few more bites of porridge. No sense in wasting it.

They finished eating in silence. Thorin looked a question at her, and she handed him her teacup and bowl. He settled back on the pallet, half-reclined, and reached out in invitation. Unsettled, she crept into arms to rest against his chest. He held her close, stroking her back in long, meditative strokes.

“You humble me, my pearl,” he said, and pressed a comforting hand on her shoulder when she made a noise of protest. “You open my eyes to things I should have seen; things I may have left undone in my quest to protect my people and get us home. For many years, I have been caretaker, but not taken the time to truly care for them as companions or friends. There was so much lost, and so much to do to provide shelter and safety, there felt like little time for else. There _was_ little time for else. I do not say this to excuse myself." He tipped her chin up to meet his gaze, a grave smile on his lips. “The company is stronger through no deliberate care of mine but for their safety. I have much to think on, but I do know one thing; my company did not gather around you to do right by just me. They did so for love of you.”

Billa, blushing, hid her face in his chest. “It is weighty conversation for such a morning,“ she said plaintively.

Thorin laughed and stroked her cheek, trying to get her to meet his eyes. “What do you expect, my pearl? It is your nature.”

Billa popped up to look at him. “My nature?”

He stroked her cheek, his expression pained and rueful. “It was irritating to find, hearing you speak, I have been half the king I mean to be.”

“Thorin, I -”

“You mistake me. Beautiful irritant; your grains of sand change me for the better.” He stretched slightly, stroking her back with both hands, his expression shading into tenderness. “I said I’d not expected to hope, not for many years, to have a wife. I had also stopped, with most family gone and not seeing my sister for years at a time, even wishing to be able to speak to someone as both king and dwarf, without fear of lessening either role…to know we can speak about our people like this is precious to me, my pearl."

“Our people,” Billa echoed faintly, and buried her head in his chest again. “Oh my goodness.”

Laughing, Thorin hooked his hands underneath Billa’s arms to draw her up until they were nearly nose-to-nose. “You did beautifully with Dwalin. It will be well, my queen.”

“Oh my goodness, that is not fair. Saying that in _that_ voice.”

Thorin’s eyes, which had been staring at her mouth, suddenly locked on hers, bewildered. “What voice?”

“The one that’s all rumbly and…um.” She bit her lip, unsure how to put it, but her expression was apparently quite clear. Thorin’s eyes opened wide with delight and humor. She growled at him and tried to curl up in embarrassment, but he moved, rolling her beneath him.

“My queen,” her murmured, deep and low, all traces of teasing gone. He kissed her lightly. “My queen, who gives me such joy, what is your pleasure this day? I would do aught that would delight you.” He put his lips to her ear. “My queen.”

She shivered beneath him. They both froze, then Thorin said, his voice husking even lower, “My queen.” Billa moaned, stretching beneath him, a tremor running through her. “Mahal,” Thorin groaned, awed, and clutched her close.

“You see how that could become awkward in certain situations.”

A great snort of laughter made Thorin’s shoulders shake beneath Billa’s hands. “Durin's beard,” he gasped, his voice rather higher-pitched and breathless. He threaded his hands in her hair, pressing kiss after kiss on her mouth, laughing the whole time, while Billa smiled broadly and tried to nip at his lips. Thorin shifted, and suddenly her hair pulled painfully against her scalp. Billa winced and Thorin hissed in apology. He took care to remove his hands.

“My pearl,” he said, laughter and apology running under his words. “Your hair is a fright.”

Billa wiggled and hit his shoulder with one small fist, her eyes teasingly wide. “It would please me, my king, not to frighten my husband.”

“ _You_ do not frighten me, wife,” Thorin smiled, a languid thrust of his hips against hers offering proof. “But we should do something about that….snarl…before it’s even more difficult to repair.”

Humming, Billa moved restlessly against him, “I don’t want to let you go.”

Thorin made a pleased sound. “You won’t have to,” he replied. In a moment, he had them arranged, Billa tucked close against his chest in a hug, astride his lap, Thorin’s cheek pressed against hers as he looked down the fall of her hair to pick out Dori’s tattered braids.

“This feels shockingly intimate, my heart,” she murmured, braving her blushes to press herself more tightly against him in order to stroke down his spine. “Could be seen as a deliberate, good king.” She paused. “Though you are wearing The Pants of Self-Restraint.”

She was pressed so close she could feel his stomach jump when he snorted and let his head fall onto her shoulder. “Oh, how could you mock me,” he moaned, laughing all the while. “I am wounded!”

Billa leaned back to put her palms on his cheeks. “I do not mock The Pants, nor the self-restraint to wear them.” she assured him. “I gained great benefit and a lovely, lovely, _lovely_ wedding night.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Three lovelies?”

“Actually, if I recall, it was somewhere upwards of seven, but who’s quibbling?”

“Who, indeed?” He replied, smile a little shy, a little smug, very pleased, and bent for a tender kiss. She leaned up and into him, sighing, and his arms tightened around her. Shifting to stroke down her back, his hand tangled around yet another ribbon and he cursed. She laughed.

“Truly, we must fix these before attacks begin from woodland creatures,” he assured her, as he tucked her back into place.

“Woodland?”

“Kili...”

“Say no more.”

Billa had no task but to lean against his shoulder, and it was delightful. He had his own warm, male scent, slightly spicy in a way that Billa couldn’t place, but she would happily sit here as long as necessary, nose in his neck, willing to try. He was so warm, and his hair smelled of woodsmoke and honey, and his fingers were gentle and soothing in her hair. Billa went boneless in his arms, in short order, and remained so, nearly drowsing.

“You are so quiet,” he murmured after a time, pulling the last of the ribbons away and sending them somewhere on the floor. His hands smoothed one after the other down her hair, seeking out any further snarls, then again, gentle and slow. “Are you asleep, my pearl?”

“No, my dear,” she answered dreamily. “I have always loved having my hair combed and petted. When I was small, I often did fall asleep when my parents combed it for me. I’ve not been pampered so in a very long time.”

“I am glad, then, that I may offer it,” he said warmly. “Now, what is your pleasure, my queen?”

“Mmmmm,” Billa yawned, then leaned back to stretch. “I think I’d like to continue that lie-in, through elevensies, possibly even as late a lunch.”

“Ah,” he said, his hands suddenly stilling on their rise from hip to waist and falling away.

“Of course, the morning does have a certain chill,” she continued blithely, reaching for the hem of her shift and hauling it off. “I could do with some company to keep me warm.”

“Could you now,” he rumbled, catching her up to kiss deeply. She hummed happily against his mouth and pressed forward, her hands at his shoulders, encouraging him to lie down.

His surprised laugh rumbled against her lips as they reclined. Her hair, free of beads, fell around them as they traded kisses, and Thorin’s hands moved through it all the while, threading through it, gathering up hanks of it to let fall and sweep against his fingers. He sighed as he had not the night before, small sounds of contentment as he kissed her, and it made Billa’s heart expand to conjure such sweet peace for him. She pressed in deeper, nibbling at his lower lip, and moved against him. He moaned and carefully pressed his hips to hers.

Billa’s breath caught, and she fought to keep her head as she gentled the kiss and leaned back, looking into his face by the light of the morning filtering in through the curtain of her hair “I thought you’d like that,” she said, and kissed his nose.

“Mmm?” He asked, taking a bit of it to brush across her collarbone.

“You wished to kiss me with my hair falling around your face, you said. By the fire.” His smile was so sweet.

“You remembered.”

Billa raised her eyebrows, incredulous. “How could I not?”

“Pearl,” he replied, deeply affectionate. He tilted his mouth and began to press her closer.

“Mmm,” she said, kissing his nose in apology for the suspended kiss. “I was wondering if my husband would care to... lose his self-restraint and join me in bed?”

He blinked at her twice, and then was a whirlwind catching her up to deposit gently on the pallet, and standing to tear at the laces of his pants. Billa watched dreamily, stretching, and ran her own fingers through her hair.

“Thorin,” she said, suddenly concerned. “My beads? Where....”

“In my teacup,” he replied shortly, and was on her. His hands, his mouth, were everywhere, as if he was not sure what he wanted to touch, to taste first. Finally, he sought her mouth and clutched her to him, taking her mouth again and again, lips, tongue, teeth, and returning to it so much love. He ground against her, hard and heavy. Billa arched into him, crying out sharply, pulled along in his wake.

Thorin broke away from the kiss and buried his face in her shoulder, breathing heavily. “I am afraid to lose all my restraint, my pearl. I want you so, and am so much stronger than you. I had not asked; are you sore at all this morning?”

“Only as much as if I’d been galloping with a particularly lively pony,” Billa replied, trying to catch her breath. As she hoped, his breath huffed out of him on a laugh.

“I see the way of it now. You love me for my riding abilities.”

“I’d not known until very recently, but I must say it’s a selling point.” She kissed his temple. “But I do love you.”

Thorin propped himself on his elbows to look into her face, expression so dear. “And I, you.”

“And you’re worried, this morning.”

He touched his forehead to hers. “There are bruises on your thighs in the shape of my fingertips. Your skin is far more tender than mine. I do not want to be too rough with you, Mizim. I was about to be, just now.”

She took a deep breath. Starch in her spine. “Then you must trust me, Kurdu, though I promise you I am sturdy. You liked the way we lay together before, as we kissed?”

“Of course.”

“I had hoped…I had wondered,” she stumbled, knowing the blush was rising in her face, “I liked that, too. Feeling you move beneath me, content. Perhaps less apt to worry?”

In a blink, he’d rolled them until they lay just like that, her sprawled across his chest.

“That was a yes?”

“Yes,” he said, pulling her up until they lay face to face. She brushed over his sex on the way up and gasped, her eyelids fluttering.

“There you are,” he murmured, cupping her face. “My lusty pearl.” He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, and relaxed beneath her, his eyes warm and slightly hooded. When he spoke again, his voice dipped low. “Take me as you will.”

Billa, suddenly lightheaded, fought to keep her eyes rolling right into the back of her head. That _voice._ She bent to press a kiss, two, on his chest.

“I hardly know where to start.”

He stroked her hair. “Perhaps a kiss?”

“That’s very practical.” She remained as she was, waiting for the dizziness to ease.

“Billa?”

Smiling, she propped herself up and hovered over him, her lips almost touching his. “I was planning,” she said, and swooped in to kiss him.

Thorin realized, after a moment, that she was kissing him as he did her, that first time, careful kisses, soft kisses that grew deeper moment by moment. He was certain when she pressed a kiss at the corner of his lips, mouth sweet and full, a hint of tongue brushing against him softly, asking. Groaning softly, he opened up to let her inside, shaken by the care she was taking.

Billa moved against him slowly, sweetly, as she kissed him, lightly biting at his mouth and sucking at his lower lip until he groaned, a tremor running through him. She made a low, approving noise, kissed him more deeply, and best of all, moved more firmly against him, just close enough to where he wanted her to be, that he was sure, soon enough, it would drive him quite mad.

Thorin shuddered, holding himself back from shifting her and just thrusting up into that sweet warmth, and Billa responded with a deep groan, shivering against him. A beautiful sound, so beautiful, and she rewarded him with another when he slid his hands up her thighs to rest low on her hips, loving the feel of her muscles flexing as she rolled against him.

“Mahal, my pearl, your lovely mouth,” he whispered between kisses. “Lovely.”

Billa leaned back, her eyes narrowed, and took his face in her hands, sharp little elbows on his chest, fingers scratching pleasantly through his beard. “Full. Sentences, ” she growled, and leaning forward, eyes on his, she licked his lower lip, then bit down hard.

He sobbed out in surprise as pleasure jolted straight to his cock, hand flying to the back of her head, urging her to do it again and Mahal, she did, but this time slowly, to make him shiver with it, then hot-eyed, bit his chin. Heavy lidded, she leaned down and placed a biting kiss over his adam’s apple, then over to the side of his neck, just under his jaw, where she scraped her blunt fingernails on one side, while she licked and sucked on the other at a place where he’d kissed on _her_ throat to make her shudder and sigh.

Thorin, moaning, didn’t know which side to press into, her mouth or her hand, and gave over, letting her turn his head gently to place stinging kisses down the side of his neck, stopping to worry gently where his neck met his shoulder. He licked his lips and had to struggle to ask, “Harder.” She trembled, muffled a moan against his skin and bit down.

He clutched at her, moaning, legs moving restlessly against the pallet, pressing himself against her belly, shuddering as she worked her way across his chest, nipping kisses on his collarbone, a sweet, full-mouthed kiss in the center, her hands stroking the edges of his chest, then hesitantly, she nuzzled into his chest hair to run her tongue across a nipple. She looked up at him.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, swallowing hard. “They might not. No one has...” He cleared his throat. “Suction. Teeth?”

“Mmm,” she sighed, a low purring sound, and set her mouth on him. He yearned up into it, his hand on the back of her head, urging for more. She complied, adding blunt scratching through his chest hair, he shuddered beneath her, deep in delight.

Thorin had never allowed this, never given over so much trust to a bed partner to lie back and be tended to. That she had the wit to realize his thicker skin could accept deeper caresses than hers, was heady, heady as her mouth.

He tensed as she nipped her way down his chest, vaguely bereft she’d only tortured the one nipple, but almost lightheaded at the implication that she was moving lower, and lower still.

When Billa shifted back, she brushed lightly over his sex, and Thorin was not ashamed to admit to himself that he whimpered. A pause, then she brought her hips down to stroke over him again, more firmly, just enough for him to feel that she had grown wet. He cupped her thighs, encouraging, and she thrust again, stilled and pressed against him at the apex of her thrust, then rolled her hips to do the same once more. Recognizing what he had taught her, his heart nearly broke open with gratitude. He gripped the furs with both hands, struggling with his breath.

“I love you so,” Thorin whispered, his voice cracking. He moved to meet her thrusts and she sat back, covering him, her hands braced against his chest and smiling a serene smile, returned his love. She shifted to move lower, and he closed his eyes tightly, willing himself not to spend at the idea of her touching his cock with her hands, her mouth.

“Kurdu?” she said hesitantly, “did I...” She knelt up until her sex was no longer pressed against his.

“Reciting. Precious metals and their alloys, Mizim,” he gritted out, blinking sightlessly at the roof of the cave. “You are very...your hands and mouth are fire and balm, all at once. I would have more time with you.”

“We have all the time we need.” She leaned forward to kiss his chest and the sweet brush of her over his cock made him clench his fists in the furs again.

“I am greedy,” he explained, reaching up to cup her breast, then urging her to settle back in place. “I want it all at once; want your fierce, biting kisses, I want your hands on my cock, and I want to be inside you when peak, and take you there again and again. I want to take you with my mouth, and...” Billa, trembling as he spoke, bucked against him, and feeling her grow more wet had him arching into her, head thrown back on a longing cry.

“Hold me still,” she rasped, raking her fingers down his chest. “My hips.”

“Billa...”

“Please!”

Thorin gripped her hips and held her tight against his cock, nestled in between her folds, head brushing against her pearl, clenching his teeth against the need to be inside her. Billa jerked against him, hips snapping in his confining hands, her pearl grinding against him. She sang for him, head thrown back. He reached up to tweak a nipple, causing her to groan and shudder, then between their bodies to stroke, and she rose again, collapsing against his chest as she came down.

Catching her under the arms, Thorin hauled Billa up his body. “Come,” he said, ”I have need of you, but I would have you even wetter. Come kneel here,” he said, working his arms underneath her thighs, and cupping her hips in his palms to help her work her way to kneeling above his shoulders.

“What?” Billa said, confused. “What are you? Oh, I...oh,Thorin, I...will you be able to breathe?”

He laughed darkly. “Of course. Hang onto that rock ledge.”

“Oh my goodness,” Billa whispered, already beginning to ripple in his hands. “Oh my goodness.” He nuzzled into her, placed an open-mouthed kiss over her pearl, and sucked, his tongue working against that tiny bit of flesh. She sang a low, sweet moan, her hips rocking gently as kissed her intimately.

Thorin loved taking her like this. The sweet savor of her musk, the way her thighs quivered around his ears, the way she whimpered and twisted, keeping herself from thrusting into him. On impulse, he held her still, licking inside her, then up to suckle at her pearl. She keened, and her hips pressed down hard into his hands before jerking against his mouth. He did not stop and she bucked against his hands again, ragged little pulses and again and was screaming her pleasure, body arched like a bow above him.

“Now,” she said, voice hoarse and shaking, clutching at the wall, swaying. “Thorin.”

It was not an elegant dismount, but he steadied and helped her until she was astride him again, helped her kneel up so she could guide him inside. They both moaned gratefully as she welcomed him in. Thorin waited, trying to control his breathing as he held still to let her adjust and begin to find her rhythm.

Billa’s expression was full of sensual wonder as she moved, trying deep thrusts and slow, shallow and quick. He guided her hips to grind against him in a circle; her breath hitched at the pressure against her pearl and he was rewarded with a deep moan and her fingers scratching down his chest and belly in approval.

It seemed she liked best the thrust he’d taught her, holding still at the apex, and she smiled at him, body trembling with each thrust. He grinned back and used his palms to tip her slightly forward, changing her angle so that her pearl stayed pressed against him no matter how she rolled against him. Shuddering, a breath sobbing out of her throat, her elbows gave way and she half fell against his chest.

Billa remained there, hips still working gently, as she caught her breath, and with a quick kiss to his chest, she rose again and set about pleasing them both.

“Kiss,” she breathed, and Thorin pushed up on his elbows. Billa leaned to catch his mouth with hers, and he balanced to cup the back of her head, the better to savor her. Her breaths were ragged, her mouth hungry as she nipped at him, and her hand came up to comb roughly though his beard as she bit down on his lower lip. He growled in approval and she swiveled her hips against him, grinding hard, and he was moaning, shuddering against her, pushing his feet against the pallet to thrust into her more deeply. Billa cried out against his mouth, losing her rhythm. “I can’t, I...” she shuddered, clenching around him, hands slipping against his chest, trying to balance herself.

“Like this, Mizim,” he rasped, lying back and steadying her with his hands on her hips. “Ride me.”

Billa moaned again, a sharp-edged sound, and she held his gaze as she moved against him, rich, deep rolls of her hips ending in a slow slide. She smiled, hazy-eyed. “My heart.”

“Your heart,” Thorin agreed. “Ride, Mizim,” he whispered, pressing into her. “Take your fill.” She cried out, hips snapping down, and worked against him, breath ragged. She clenched around him, keening, and shook through a peak. He slipped his hand between them, adding an extra stroke, and she broke again, growling, and bore down on him, snapping into a rhythm that had him, very quickly, breathless and sobbing out in pleasure. He had to, he had...

“Billa,” Thorin gasped, “I need...” Pressing his feet against the pallet, he rocked up. “Balanced?”

“Y-yes.”

Thorin moved, and it tilted her forward. Billa wailed approval at the change of pressure and depth, clenching around him with a shudder, and rolled against him once more, picking up speed. Thorin helped her, hands tight on her waist, urging her to truly ride, use her thighs to rise up and thrust down on him. She threw her head back, curls flying, her moans gone harsh and guttural as her hips snapped down.

She was glorious, skin shining with sweat, flushed cheeks and heaving breasts, gazing down at him with such lust and love. A bit of a challenging flash in her eyes and she, she, _Mahal_ , she was bearing down and _deliberately_ squeezing him and he roared, hands snapping to her hips to pull her down onto him, faster, harder. Her hands were on his chest again, fingers ten blunt little claws, and he felt that wonderful thing that she did, that digging thrust before drawing him ever deeper and oh, he had to follow, growling as he thrust into her, feeling her peak and peak and peak around him and he was gone, screaming with her, for her.

After, they lay there breathing, Billa face down, hair spread over his chest. He petted her head, half-drowsing.

 _“Well,”_ she said.

Thorin’s cock gave a feeble little twitch, and he began laughing.

“What?”

“You were speaking of words that might become awkward later?”

“Hmm?”

“You say ‘well’ in that tone of voice when you’ve just....”

“Hit a high point?”

Thorin groaned. “That you have the strength to have wit....”

“Self-defence. Can’t move. Not a bit.”

“Hmm. You also say ‘well’ in that tone of voice when you’ve been fed something you particularly like.”

“And?”

“We eat many communal meals. Take pity on your poor husband.”

She gave an amused snort and snuggled into him. He ran his nails over the nape of her neck, trying to keep her awake. “Let me up, wife. If we fall asleep like this, we’ll wake sticky and you will likely be very sore.”

“From riding,” she snickered, trying to rise. The result was a great deal like a newborn foal, all awkward limbs, as she tried to push herself up on her elbows. She gave up and slumped to his chest.

“I think I’m drunk,” she muttered. “How am I drunk?”

“Tired? I recall seeing you fair drunk with weariness a time or two.”

“There were usually orcs involved,” she complained. She wavered up on her elbows to glare at him. “You’re being very practical,” she yawned. “And right.”

He brushed the corner of her mouth with his thumb. “Let me take care of you.” She smiled.

Thorin sat up and managed to get her onto her side as he withdrew from her, kissing her when she made a soft sound of regret. He went to the kettle he’d left beside the coals, poured out a measure of it into a rough basin Bofur had made for them, and added a bit of cool water from his bottle. By the time he’d fetched clean cloths from the other side of the chamber, the water was right, so he washed his face and wiped himself down, then took a cloth and the water bottle to his wife.

She was drowsing, and hummed, stretching when stroked down her back. He gave her some water to drink, then urged her to lie so he could wipe her down. He noticed her wince a little.

“Sore?”

“Some. It was a _very_ lively pony,” she admitted.

Thorin huffed a laugh, and put a calming hand on her belly. “A massage might help. Billa, may I see?” He stroked lower, over the little triangle of curls. “I’ve left bruises on your thighs again, and want to make sure...”

“Of course,” she replied shyly and canted one leg aside. He hooked her knee in one hand and drew it over his shoulder, baring her to his gaze.

“Yes,” he said ruefully, brushing her skin with his finger. “Here and...here.” He grimaced, unable to keep the words from bubbling up. “Saddle sore.”

Snorting, Billa slapped a hand to her forehead. “We can never have ponies again.”

Thorin pressed his mouth to the inside of her thigh, laughing, then looked up at her. “We must get through most of our childish laughter before we head out. Else....”

“They’ll pick up on it and the jokes will never end.”

“As much as I treasure laughing with you and embarrassing them, we must try to appear more mature than my nephews.”

“Agreed.”

“Agreed.” He bent to lick carefully over a small hurt.

She gasped, shivering, and arched into his mouth. “Thorin?”

“Do hobbits not kiss hurts?” he asked innocently, laving the other red spot. His thumb moved gently, barely stroking, just over her pearl. She made a small incredulous noise, trembling, twisting in his hands. “Is my beard too much?”

“Almost.”

“Almost is too much.” He kissed her thighs and just over her pearl in apology, and rose to fetch a small bottle of oil from his pack. Uncorking it, he offered it to her to smell. “It has little scent, and should not sting. May I?”

Billa nodded. Thorin stroked his-oil slicked fingers between her legs gently, smoothing it into her skin. She dropped her head heavily onto the pallet, shivering and sighing through his ministrations. Wiping his hands on the cloth, he found a blanket to cover them, lay beside her and leaned to kiss her blushing face.

“You respond to me so quickly, Mizim. It is a very heady thing. I set out to care for you, not....have I marred our morning with my teasing?”

“No! Truly I am not that sore, just a little tender. I would have gone on - ”

“Allow me to be careful, my pearl, and be careful with yourself.” he said earnestly. “What was it you said earlier, ‘start as we mean to go on?’ I must learn your tender skin.” He grinned and kissed her nose. “Just as you are learning mine.”

Billa blushed again and bit her lip. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“No one has tended to me as you have today.” He leaned in to brush his lips against hers and murmur against them, “‘Like’ is not the word for it.”

Billa rolled to face him and stroked over his nipple. “When you said you didn’t know, earlier,” she asked shyly.

Thorin pressed his hand over hers. “I have trusted no other but you to touch me so.”

“Oh.” She sounded shocked and a little bewildered.

“Billa,” Thorin ducked his head to catch her gaze. “Are you concerned over my other bed partners? You know I didn’t come to you untried.”

When she met his eyes, her expression was happily not of jealousy. “No! Hobbits are encouraged to experiment in their tweens, to play, so many are only virgins by degrees or not at all when they marry, with the idea that it would be extremely bad manners to come to your marriage bed and discover you don’t actually like joining with the opposite sex.”

“And good manners are very important,” he teased her.

“Good manners are key,” she agreed, with a small grin.

“And so,” he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Is it good manners to ask what troubles you about my life before?”

Billa stroked his chest, thinking. “It’s not so much troubled, as it seems you were still quite...lonely despite having partners.”

“That would be fair to say.”

She leaned up to give him a small, soft kiss. “So, I find I am both appreciative of your skills, but also want to go smack every single one of them in the face for not appreciating you.”

Thorin laughed and rolled her in his arms, so that she lay half-sprawled against his chest. “Mizim Azahyaz Alanjuzaz,” he said softly, nearly singing it, brushing her hair away from her face, his face growing solemn as he spoke. “We are taught our chiefest joy in marriage is companionship, and that includes joining with our spouse, to please them, to know them, mind, heart and body. To seek comfort as I did, sometimes in despair...I knew I was not giving my heart or mind, as did they. And once the despair did not lift despite seeking comfort, I set that aside.”

“Kurdu,” Billa whispered, pained.

“Shhh,” he replied, taking one of her hands to kiss the palm. “Do not grieve, Billa. That long road brought me to you. I could not begin to comprehend the joy of you had I not had those times.”

She leaned up for a few fierce kisses, then settled with her cheek over his heart. “I still want to smack them, though,” she muttered.

Thorin’s chuckle was rich and pleased. “Fair enough,” he replied, and stroked her hair until they settled into sleep.

~~~


	3. Chapter 3

~~~

Fili and Kili returned from checking their snares, handed the rabbits to Bifur for butchering, the skins to Dwalin, and sat down in front of the fire, both oddly pale and shaken.

“What’s got into you two?” Bofur asked around the stem of his pipe. “Tell me you didn’t eat random berries again.”

Behind him, Bombur gave a great snort of derision. Bofur leaned back to catch his brother’s eye and share a chuckle. He looked back at the princes.

“Oh,” he said, and looked into the fire with resignation. “Set traps too close, did you?”

Kili swallowed hard. “They’ll scare the game away. They... we...when... _the birds stopped chirping_. For a second. We weren’t, we didn’t mean...we weren’t _that_ close.”

“Truly, does no one remember a silencing charm?” Fili asked, sounding somewhat desperate.

“That would be dead useful,” Nori said slowly, from his project of trimming a fur pelt. Dori cuffed him on the ear. “Well it would!”

“Can you think of nothing but your nefarious schemes?” he scolded.

“Well, it’s a damn sight better than thinking about...” Nori pointed toward the cave. Dori cuffed him again.

“Not a word to them,” Dwalin growled, sitting down to fill his pipe. “Or you’ll answer to me.”

“And me,” Ori said firmly. Everyone turned to gape at him. It was visibly clear he wanted to shrink under so much regard, but he stood firm and scowled. “Billa would be mortified. And she’s really happy now, so. Nobody mess that up. And if we had that particular bit of lore, _which we don’t_ , we shouldn’t use it, in case they needed help.”

Dwalin reached out, slapped his hand against the nape of Ori’s neck and shook him affectionately. “Good lad!” Ori blushed and ducked his head. When Dwalin stopped shaking him, he managed to leave his arm around the scribe. Ori blushed even harder, a tiny, pleased smile on his face.

Nori pre-emptively cuffed Dori the moment his overprotective brother drew breath to complain about Dwalin cuddling Ori without his permission. Not paying attention to any of this, Ori leaned tentatively into Dwalin’s side and was rewarded with a small half-hug. Dori grumbled into his furs.

“Should take some food up to them soon,” Dwalin observed a few long minutes later, tapping out his pipe before putting it away. “Lunch ready, Bombur?” Bombur took a taste of today’s stew and nodded.

“Oh,” Ori said, perking up. “And Billa’s pack. Her things. We should. I mean you should take it to her.”

“Come with me,” Dwalin replied, slapping Ori on the back. “I’ll need the extra hand.”

“Oh! You!” Dori sputtered, and Ori gave his brother a fierce look. Nori helpfully cuffed Dori again. Dori threatened him with his sewing shears.

“Master Dori,” Dwalin rose and went to Dori, his hand extended. “I do not dally with your brother. Truly. I wish to court him. He has consented.”

Dori puffed himself up to his full height only to feel Nori kick him discreetly. He looked around Dwalin’s bulk to meet his youngest brother’s eyes. Ori nodded at him, determined and smiling.

“Very well,” Dori huffed, clasping Dwalin’s forearm. “But hurt him...”

“I’ll give you the ax myself,” Dwalin assured him, and gave a nod to Nori. “Ori? You know where that pack is?”

‘Yes! I... It’s just...” Stuffing his journal in his own pack, Ori hurried to find Billa’s.

Every eye at the fire followed the unlikely pair as they walked toward the woods, carrying not only Thorin and Billa's lunch, but their own, happily chatting.

“Master Dori,” Bofur said, a teasing light in his eyes. “Tell me you didn’t see that coming. He’s been sitting next to the lad at every possible opportunity.” Bombur cleared his throat loudly and gave his brother a meaningful look. Bifur made a few eloquent hand signs. “Oh aye, and a bit of kissing, too? Didn’t know about that.”

Dori made a pained noise. Nori cuffed him once more, this time affectionately, and his elder brother turned and hauled him into a hug.

“He just grew up so fast!” Dori lamented, his voice shaking. Nori chuckled and thumped his brother on the back.

“I just never dreamed he’d be courting so soon! And kissing already!”

Fili groaned like a thing in pain and Kili put both hands over his ears, yelling to drown out anything more Dori might be saying about kissing.

“Can we put a silencing charm on them?” he asked wildly, hands still over his ears.

“Who, laddie?” Bofur asked.

He took his hands down to gesture at the remaining Ri brothers and beyond, to the forest. “All of them!” Kili wailed. “Any of them!”

“We don’t have one, lad,” Bofur reminded him, not unkindly. “No one living remembers.”

A shout of deep laughter came from the forest path. Dwalin.

“Arrrargh! Arrrrrrrrraaaaghrah!” Kili growled, throwing himself backwards off his bit of log, kicking wildly, hands over his ears again.

“Kili,” Dori pitched his voice to carry over the youngest prince’s howls. “Having a fit is not going to help at all!”

“No, actually,” Fili corrected him, voice hollow, his hands gripping his knees. “It does. It really does.”

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dwarrow magic: A verse in "Far Over The Misty Mountains Cold," mentions dwarrow magic, so I puttered around a bit, and talked it over with my lovely beta. The gates at Moria and at Erebor obviously have some magic worked into them, but why don't we see more of this? It was Mynuet's theory that because of the rapid evacuation of Erebor, the rout of the Battle of Azanulbizar, plus the years of wandering after, a lot of lore and oral history was lost, scholars and magic users died suddenly and before their time, so many of the spells the dwarrow possessed were forgotten. I doubt I'll use it much in my story, but the opportunity for comic relief presented itself, and, I couldn't walk away. 
> 
> The conclusion in a few days!


	4. Apprentice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More lazy honeymoon morning, with a spot of lunch, statecraft and swimming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, y'all, there was going to be a relatively quick chapter and the final set-piece of this part, but Billa and Thorin want to keep talking and smooching and learning stuff about each other. ~~And tossing casual bits of foreshadowing I plan on using to break everyone's hearts later.~~ I figure it's their honeymoon, why not?
> 
> Gorgeous art toward the end of the fic by Hattedhedgehog. Such tender expressions! I love it.

Thorin tried to wake Billa by stroking a gentle finger from her forehead down her nose. She stretched in his arms, eyes still closed, and snuggled closer with a contented sigh. He continued the caress. 

“Dwalin brought lunch,” he murmured, amused. Billa made a sleepy, inquisitive noise. 

“No idea what it is; I have an armful of sleeping wife.” 

“Mmmm,” Billa sighed, twining her arms around his neck. Her head lolled against his arm and she gazed at him with sleepy, smiling eyes. 

“There you are.” 

“Mmmmm." 

Thorin kissed her nose, and when she sighed happily, curled her closer for a small kiss. Sleepy, warm, and completely enchanting, she hummed at the soft, chaste kiss he intended, but her plump lower lip grazed his, sweet and firm, and he had to catch it again with his own, taste it is more fully. 

Billa made a throaty, appreciative noise, and returned the caress, sucking his lip between hers before scraping it gently with her teeth, then a bit more firmly before soothing it with her tongue. Tender from her attentions earlier in the morning, Thorin’s breath caught with the novel sensation, slow heat kindling in his belly, and his intentions to fetch lunch were suddenly far less pressing.

Trading kisses seemed like a far better idea, and Billa seemed of the same mind, as she pressed closer, breasts and belly snug against his. He stroked his hand down her lower back to press her even closer and she gasped, feeling him harden for her. She trembled in his arms, arching her back to rub against him, and in the middle of a kiss, she moaned softly and melted, seeming even warmer, softer in his embrace and very much his. 

He groaned against her mouth, and pressed his hips to hers once more, rocking slow and firm, reveling in her soft sounds, the tantalizing graze of her nipples against his chest, and the way she shivered, yearning into him. 

Thorin urged her to lift her leg slightly, and slid his cock between her legs, stroking over her sex, her folds slick with oil, their earlier lovemaking and her own rich heat. Billa mewled, then pressed deep, biting kisses of encouragement against his lips that made him want to put her on her back and just take, but he was determined to hold onto the sweetness of her waking in his arms. Rolling his hips slowly, he stroked then held, and again, again, again, hanging on to his will until she was shuddering and then pressed tight against her, holding her still. She jerked in his arms, crying out against his mouth. 

“Billa.” 

“Yes. _Yes._ ” 

“Tell me if...” 

“I will! Please, Thorin. Kurdu, dear, love,” she whispered between kisses, shaking. “Come to me.” 

Moaning deeply, Thorin slid inside her. She pulsed around him, body bucking, arching back, shivering, hands clutching at him as if for balance, her head thrown back on a long, satisfied moan, as she took her pleasure simply welcoming him inside.

Watching her in wonder, it took Thorin a moment to have enough wit to continue moving. Gratitude rose again in his heart, (and he had to admit, a large dose of male pride) gratitude and awe that he...that they, that, that she responded to him so quickly, so trustingly, so deeply. 

He curled her close, cupping her thigh to draw her tightly against him as he stroked inside her and kissed her as if he could tell her how he loved the sweet, stubborn fierceness of her, the whole of it, just from the press of skin against skin. Breath hitching in his chest, he could feel her trembling, feel her body begin to rise again toward her peak. Fortunate, he was so fortunate...

Billa put her hand on his cheek, combing her fingers through his beard. “Kurdu, what is it?” she said, struggling with her breath. “What’s? 

He leaned back to look at her. “I never dared to hope to have such a gift, such a treasure as you. Never.” 

“Love...” 

“So little has come easy in my life, after the dragon,” he rasped. “To have this, with you, to have you rise to my touch so...” Running out of words, he caught her mouth in a kiss and urged her to rise again for him, giving her everything he could, body and heart. 

Billa was very slowly unraveling in Thorin’s arms, delicious, slow, thrusts making her sway in his arms, his intense, intent kisses that made her feel dreamy and kiss-drunk, safe and heart-sure, wanting to drink in every measure of love he poured out and return it, somehow, ten-fold. 

The way Thorin held her thigh and ground against her so slowly caused Billa to break their kiss, her head to loll back, struggling to breathe through roll after roll of pleasure. He nearly bent himself double to suckle at her breast, drawing out another long, sweet pulse and he stayed there, mouth alternately soft or achingly, gently, biting, until she could feel something building slowly, way off, a long wave, and she reached for him, wanting his mouth, his hair cool and silky in her palms, his eyes blazing blue with love, looking into hers. 

She got one starry glance before her took her mouth, savory bites and slow, velvet tongue, kissing her in time with his rolling thrusts and when the wave broke, gentle but deep, it felt as if it were washing her with fingers of shimmering light, brushing down cheeks to breast to belly and beyond. She pressed against him, cries muffled by his mouth, boneless and trembling as his thrusts deepened, grew ragged, lost their rhythm, and he groaned, low enough for it to buzz against her lips, her breasts, and then he was pressed close as could be against her heart, entirely hers. 

Billa wound her arms more tightly around his neck and kept close, breath ragged as the last shocks of pleasure left her, heart too full to speak. Thorin kissed her shoulder, her neck, and after easing out of her, kept her in his arms to massage as much of her lower back and thigh as he could reach. She moaned gratefully. 

“More later,” he promised. 

“Spoiling me rotten,” she murmured. 

“Mmm, no. Treating you as I was taught to treat a wife,” he corrected her, continuing to press small kisses to her neck, her shoulder. “Like my chiefest treasure, which you are. And,” he continued with a sigh, giving her a small hug. “When we leave here, there will be precious little chance to tend to you as I’d like, traveling as we will.” 

“Ah, traveling,” she mused, her tone-half teasing. “I hope you’re not going to be one of those romantic hero husbands who set their wives on a pedestal and expect them to be mostly ornamental and charming, when they’re not in attractive, yet dire, peril and need to be rescued. Never seeming to muss their hair or tear their clothes. You saw what happened with the trolls and the goblins; I’m far too grubby for that sort of wife.” 

He leaned back to look at her, blinking, brows raised and bewildered. “What was _in_ those books of...Prim...?” 

“Primula’s. Pretty much that. Plus, um,” Billa blushed. "Key information about how males and females came together. Those were the important bits.” 

“I see,” he said, eyebrows still up. He gave her a lingering kiss, his hand straying to her breast and stroking gently. “Some information. But not everything.” 

“Apparently not.” Billa gave a wiggle that somehow managed to be both wanton and shy, angling for another kiss. Thorin obliged, and lost himself indulging in her lovely mouth for a few long moments. 

“It would seem to me,” he said, his voice husking low as he stroked his thumb over her cheek. “That because the day my heart opened to you was one where you vowed to help take back my home, braved, fought, and killed an orc rescuing _me_ , putting you on such a pedestal would be remarkably stupid.” 

She smiled, pain in her face, remembering. “Well. Do please keep that sort of thing to a minimum, will you, dear?” 

“I cannot promise. You know that. Neither can you.” 

“I know. I’m just trying not to think of it so much, not inside this chamber. These days are such a gift.” 

“As much as I can give for the moment. Would it were the jewels and silks and pearls you deserve.” 

Billa pressed her hand against his cheek and met his eyes squarely, as serious as she could be. “Know this, husband, you are my dearest treasure, as well, and nearly as dear is so much time together, just us two. 

“Billa,” he breathed, and kissed her softly. “Pearl.” 

“I plan to hoard days, moments like this as greedily as a dragon, my heart.” 

“We will make the most of them,” he promised. 

She hugged him tighter and leaned back, rolling them until he was half-sprawled atop her, propped on hands flung out so as not to crush her with his weight. Cupping his face, Billa scratched through his beard in a friendly way and said firmly, “One more kiss before lunch. One.” 

He raised his eyebrows skeptically. 

“I think a solid plan is the only way married people manage to let go of one another long enough to get out of bed.” 

Thorin leaned down until his lips were a breath from hers. _“Well,”_ he said, grinning, and she laughed against his mouth. 

~~~

They took their lunch outside, with the intention of a picnic followed by a dip in the river. On the way down to where they’d bathed previously, they met Dwalin and Ori, clearly having had the same picnic idea, headed back to camp, hand in hand. Out of the corner of her eye, Billa could see Thorin’s smile flash bright at his captain, and both dwarrow, most surprisingly Dwalin, ducked their heads a bit, blushing. 

“Good afternoon,” Billa called. “Thank you for, again, bringing us food, Dwalin. And my pack! That was very thoughtful.” 

“Ori’s idea, my queen,” Dwalin rumbled, putting his arm around the scribe. 

“My thanks to you then, Ori. Much appreciated.”

“Glad to help, Miss...My queen. Always.” Ori’s blush was reaching the potentially catching fire stage. He noticed the bowls and food in their hands. “Oh, we shouldn’t...we shouldn’t keep them, Dwalin, they’ve not eaten.” Dwalin looked down at Ori, affection and pride clear in his expression. 

“We won’t,” he said simply, and rubbed Ori’s arm, tucking him a bit closer to his side. 

“You look very happy,” Thorin said abruptly, and looked slightly shocked with himself. "Both of you."

“Oh, you’re _courting_!” Billa blurted, which made everyone laugh, and Ori to renew his blushes. “I mean courting officially. Sorry, I just noticed the braids. Congratulations!” 

Dwalin inclined his head in thanks, followed by Ori, who used the same gesture, and a near-whispered thank you. Ori’s hand strayed to the courting braid by his left ear, and he smiled proudly.

“We’ll be in range should you have need,” Dwalin said, pointing with his chin toward the river. 

“You honor us,” Thorin replied, brow furrowed. “But, we should be fine,” he gestured at the sword he carried, at odds with a romantic picnic, but prudent. Dwalin gave Thorin a look. “Dwalin. Let one of the other fellows take a turn. Especially...” 

Dwalin held up a hand. “You had the morning free of care, save for the lads checking the traps. I don't like to push it farther, my king, peaceful as it has been.” Thorin nodded reluctantly. “The forest is shady and cool, this time of day. And I’ve a knitting lesson, that will pass the time,” he continued with a half-smile. He looked at Thorin for permission to depart, and receiving a nod, said, “Enjoy your lunch, your majesties.” 

The two of them bowed again (not letting go of one another for a moment) and headed down the path. Ori looked back at Billa with a delighted, giddy smile. Billa returned it with an equally excited smile for him. 

“Thank you again!” Billa she called after them. 

“Knitting,” Thorin chuckled quietly as they continued on. 

“I think it’s sweet,” Billa replied. “Is...that a courtship thing? Teaching one another their skills or crafts?” 

“It is, actually. The Ri family are weavers and tailors, and of course, knitting is the best he can do out here in the wilds.” 

“Ori’s a scribe, I thought.” 

“His main craft is as a scribe, yes, but paper and parchment are at a premium here. That and Dwalin already possesses a fine hand, thanks to his brother.” 

Billa looked at him. “I’m trying to imagine Dwalin doing fine work with a little quill.” She found them a sunny rock to settle on and waded out to it, Thorin following her after removing his boots.

“The story is that there were many, many broken ones and broken inkpots besides, until he settled into it.” 

“Which is why you’re amused about the knitting. Because of the needles.” 

Thorin gave her a laughing look as he savored a bite of stew. 

“Maybe Bifur or Bofur could make some larger ones that fit Dwalin’s hands better. It will make for a bulkier weave, but no less warm.” 

“You might mention it to Ori. In a few days. Maybe a week.” 

“Horrible dwarf!” Billa pointed at him. 

“Majestic idiot,” he corrected primly.

~~~

Billa ate all of her stew, bread and cheese and gave a quick, longing glance to Thorin’s. He handed her a leftover scone from breakfast. 

“Oh, lovely! Where were you hiding it?” 

“If I tell you, you’ll know where I’m keeping the other one.” 

She threw her head back and laughed. “Understood, love. I will aid you in preserving your mysteries.” 

“‘Find things that may give her delight,” Thorin offered, clearly quoting. “There is as much affection - if not more - in a cup of tea, prepared to her taste, as in one hundred verses meditating on the beauty of her beard, for she will know you have observed her closely in the small moments of life, and kept that knowledge in your heart.’” He gave her a small, private smile. “Offering my hobbit wife food was a simple choice.” 

“So, this is something you were actually taught,” Billa, said slowly, her eyes wide in wonder. “I thought you meant ‘taught’ as in taught by watching your father and mother.” 

“That, too.” 

Billa pondered that. “You!” she said, eyes narrowed. “You. In Beorn’s halls, I was startled one evening when you told Bofur to pass me the clotted cream and raspberry preserves. You did it the next time it was served, too, and then it began just settling next to my plate, every meal.” 

“The company and servers picked up on it,” he said, shrugging, eyes warm and pleased. “And you had something you loved, as often as you wished.” 

“That was weeks ago! Weeks!”

Thorin’s smile was slow and sweet. 

“You,” Billa mused affectionately, shaking her head and eating the last few bites of her scone. “My goodness. How did I miss that?” 

“You returned the gesture,” Thorin said, rolling up his pant legs and settling beside her to dangle his feet in the water. “One night you sat next to me, smacked Kili’s hands and told him not to hog all the mushrooms and onions as I’d not had any, and told off Fili for taking the last of the dish of wild grain, the one with nuts and that tangy red fruit, for the same reason. How did you know I liked that? I’d only had it once before.” 

“You growled the moment you heard the spoon scrape the bottom of the bowl. And I fussed at him just as much for me as I did you.” 

“Even still.” He leaned against her, his voice low and fond. “I made note of it. And began to hope a little.” 

Billa leaned back. “Just a little?” 

“Well,” he complained slowly, as if to someone not quite bright. “You’re kind to _everyone_.”

She pressed a smile against his arm, then kissed it. “You poor dear.” 

“It took a bit of watching to see whose company you truly enjoyed or favored. Which was not the skin-changer, dragging you about like a rag doll, talking to you like you were a pet." 

“He has lots of pets.” 

“None of them so obviously a comely _female_. Before I could become too jealous, I realized your blushes were not ones of pleasure when he was hauling you about.” 

“No,” Billa said firmly. “Most certainly not.” 

“And even so, even more so when I realized how unhappy you were, I wanted to strike him, or at the very least have a few pointed words, but Gandalf bid me temper myself, lest we lose his good will,” he sighed, still annoyed, took a deep breath and visibly tried to let it go. “ But,” he continued, wrapping an arm around her waist. “I did note that you blushed sometimes when I spoke to you, stood or sat close. I thought at first it was because I made you nervous, or afraid, after being so cruel before.”

“Love...” 

“No, my pearl,” he pressed a kiss to her temple. “Do not let my care for you now change your memory. I was unnecessarily cruel. I was sure Gandalf was the fool for insisting on including you, but I was the fool, seven times so. I am reminded of what we talked about before; how I pointed my will so steadfastly in one area, that I neglected another. This is like that. I must practice more patience. I must learn to look better under the surfaces of things with a calmer heart. Had I thought of how you managed with the trolls until Gandalf arrived, I’d have recognized your heart, your worth sooner. I was....”

“Worried about the near-roasting of half your company, and being stuffed in a sack.” she interrupted him. “Not to mention probably half-insensate from the horrible smell. If I must remember the way you were, then so must you. You’ve had to rely on your wits to judge others before, Thorin, to keep your people safe. I was, at nearly every turn, a disaster. I may have held the trolls off for Gandalf, but if I’d shown a bit more foresight, we’d have had a plan, and you lot might not have been captured. I wasn’t sure why Gandalf insisted I come either, other than in memory in of my mother. I still don’t."

Thorin kissed her temple again. “Most battle plans do not survive the opening skirmish; it may have played out much the same way.” He paused for a moment. “Perhaps, in both our cases, remembering the ways and words of wizards are not ours - and to listen better - would be prudent.” 

“And practical. We are practical." 

“Terribly.” He tucked her closer to his side, and she leaned against him, kicking her feet in the cool water. He stroked her arm. 

“Weeks ago. Weeks,” she mused, stroking her hand down his thigh to the knee. “I did see you, feel you look at me, sometimes, and I thought...I didn’t know what to think.” 

He stroked down her side and murmured into her hair. “I didn’t know what to think either. You were perplexing, and filled my senses as I healed; your voice as you spoke or sang; the sweet fragrance of the honey soap and lavender that seemed to cling to you; how lovely you looked, not covered in troll snot.” Billa laughed and swatted at him, and he chuckled into her hair, arm tightening around her in a hug. “

"Your forgiveness was genuine, as was your word; I had no doubt of that. You were cordial to all, friendly with some, but you blushed and became more shy if _I_ stood or sat close. If things were still, if we sat and smoked or read, if the tale being told was a quiet one, I would lean a bit closer, or smile if our eyes met. More times than not, your breath would quicken, and it was all I could do to not watch the grace of your body, the lift of your breasts, lest I be caught. Even though your gaze did not rise to mine, when your breath came quick, I hoped the cause was my eyes on you, that you thought of me with desire, how I hoped.” 

Gasping, Billa let her head loll back against his arm. “And you said nothing.” 

“No.” She could feel him shake his head. “You were. Billa. You were so unexpected. I struggled with it. Against possibility; would your generosity, your forgiveness extend so far as to open your heart? Against renewal of hope set aside for so long. Against convention, though if I had not found my One amongst my people in all these years, perhaps you were the reason, and not some lack in myself. And to put myself before your eyes before we reclaimed Erebor, when I could offer so much less than I wished, it seemed...” 

“Not practical?” 

“Foolish. I thought to set it aside until Erebor was mine. But then...” Thorin stroked a hand, cool with water, down her neck to the edge of her shift. Billa sighed, arching her neck to offer him more room. He caressed her throat with gentle fingers. 

“We stood here in the river, and I could see traces of a blush from here...” he touched her cheek, “to here,” he trailed his fingers down her throat, brushing all the way past the neckline of her shift, to the tops of her breasts. “ And when you met my gaze, your breath caught.” His mouth was warm against her temple. "Such hope I could not keep silent; it could not _all_ be embarrassment.” 

“You were right,” Billa breathed, breath catching as his fingers skimmed over a breast, cupping it gently. “Thorin. I felt your eyes on me. I didn't meet your gaze because I thought you couldn’t possibly....” She shivered as his fingers ran in slow circles around her breast. She made a small sound, and bit her lips, stifling it.

“It’s all right,” he said. “Our backs are turned; they cannot see.” He chuckled, and then murmured, a smile in his voice, right into her ear. “Unless you want that.” 

“Thorin!” She laughed, shocked, gave him a shove, then caught his shirt with both hands and hauled him close. “I am only for you,” she said firmly, right against his mouth. 

“I hear, my queen,” he replied. She gave him a quick kiss and released him. He caught her and brought her mouth back close to his. 

“Think; it will be even sweeter, my pearl, to bathe, to be naked together, touching and being touched, and delay our pleasure until we seek our bed again."

Billa whimpered and clutched at his shoulders. “Oh, that’s so entirely not fair, how you can do that,” she mumbled, hitting him with one shaking hand. Thorin kissed her forehead, and Billa could feel him up there, all smug and pleased. She looked up at him. “Your idea has merit, my heart,” she said firmly. “Being so out in the open, it's a bit...with our friends, however professional, nearby...” She cleared her throat. “As much as I would like to touch you, freely...” 

He kissed her brow, this time sweet and serious. “Of course, my pearl. Of course.” 

Being understood loosed a warm curl of mischief inside Billa, and she reached out to scratch across his chest firmly. “But again,” she murmured, looking at him from beneath her lashes. “The idea about touching and delay...” She swallowed hard, her cheeks positively blazing. “A short dip, then?” 

“No.” Thorin’s smile was wide and white and wolfish. He kissed her forehead once more and stood, leaving her smiling and intrigued.

“Dwalin,” he shouted, pulling his shirt over his head. “Bathing!” 

“My EYES!” Dwalin bellowed back, adding an anguished cry. Billa nearly fell over in surprise, a startled laugh bursting out of her. 

Thorin made a probably very rude gesture. “Back 20 paces!” 

“Five!” 

“Ten!” 

“Bring the bowls to shore and we have a bargain,” their captain shouted. 

“Done!” 

“Isn’t he supposed to, you know...” 

“Obey? Not blindly. Not when it’s his area of expertise. Ten paces are generous but not too generous, and I wager that he’s got Ori watching the far bank, slingshot at hand. My nephews did some scouting this morning all around us, as well. 

“Not just hunting,” Billa said, humbled. 

“Not just for food,” he confirmed, kneeling to kiss her. “It is very peaceful here, caught near Beorn’s hall, where orc and goblin should fear to tread, and Mirkwood, which they do.” 

“So safe enough for hunting and for...” 

“For gathering strength, and for me to make the best guess of my life,” he said, grin bright. “I’ll be back for your bodice and skirt, to keep them dry, and bring the soap,” he offered, gathering up their bowls. “Dwalin will ask; dinner tonight in our chambers, or down with the lads?” 

“One more meal alone?” Billa asked, a little surprised at the plaintive note in her voice. “Not that I....” 

“Hush,” he bent to kiss her again. “We have the company’s understanding.” 

“Then....perhaps some extra scones or bread, too, if available?” 

“As you wish, my queen.” 

Another dazzling grin and Billa watched him splash away through the shallows. She waved to Dwalin, who gave her a casual salute, and sat for a moment, dreamy and almost pleasantly full. She gave a quick poke at the pile of weapons, Thorin’s belt and shirt, wondering where the other scone might be hiding. 

She’d promised, she reminded herself with a shake, and bent to tend to her laces, sending a quick peek to the shore to see if Dwalin had gone. Ori had joined them, and was talking to Dwalin with animation. All three male backs were turned, so she quickly slipped out of her skirt and bodice, moved behind the up thrust rocks where she’d bathed before, pulling the hem of her shift higher the deeper the water became, finally shucked it off and tossed it, crossing her fingers, to lay atop the rock that screened her from the shore. It landed where it would keep dry. 

The water was blissfully cool after their sunny picnic on a warm rock. Billa ducked her head quickly, wetting her hair, a brush of hands over her arms and face, then hopped on the little ledge at the bottom of her rock that let her sit comfortably, chest deep in the water. 

She ran a quick hand between her legs, checking the little abrasions from their lovemaking for herself. Just a bit tender; she’d had worse hurt falling on a fence rail as tween, but perhaps more of Thorin’s oil and taking a little more care. Not that she had minded, or even felt, getting the abrasions at the time. Not at _all_ , and happily, joining with him side by side had not caused any further soreness. 

Hugging herself happily, Billa sat, remembering the morning. It had been the impulse of a moment, finally realizing what “hide as thick as a dwarf” might mean, and she was proud of it. Billa had wanted those responses of his so much, to have him respond with the some of the same abandon as she did to his caresses, and with same sort of joy. How to improve on it, though, now that she’d begun, she had little idea. She was well beyond the meager education of Primula’s romances.

Backslapping and laughter signaled Dwalin and Ori’s departure, and Billa could hear Thorin splashing through the shallows, doing his small chores. Knowing he would be near soon, her heart began to beat faster, and she pressed her hands against her flushing cheeks. Soon enough, he rounded the rock, hair unbound, beautifully naked. Her breath caught in her throat. 

“Hello, husband,” she said, feeling tender and shy and a bit giddy. 

“You have quite the champion, my wife,” he replied, wading to her with a dazzling smile, always so startling against his dark skin and beard. He set the soap on a little ridge of stone just above her head, and settled beside her. “Ori has insisted on preserving your modesty and convinced Dwalin to withdraw a bit, about where the company bathed the other day, around the bend upstream.” 

Billa narrowed her eyes. “I’m surprised Dwalin didn’t think of that.” 

Thorin’s smile flashed bright again. “Well spotted. Apparently Ori spotted it too, and gave Dwalin a jab with a knitting needle for thinking he might not.” 

Laughing in surprise, Billa looked up at him, eyebrows raised. Thorin gave her an equally surprised nod, wrapped his arm around her, and tucked her against his side.

“Did it right in front of me, and then was mortified for the show of temper. Ori may never be a warrior, but he’s got a good mind, and knows much of our history, both cultural and military. Never hurts to have another tactician. And it’s good to see his confidence rise, stand his ground, outside his brother’s shadow.” 

Billa leaned against him and squeezed his knee. “Hmm. I thought you neglected getting to know the company, my love.” 

Thorin opened his mouth to speak, and closed it with on a slow, wondering frown. “Well. I. Balin has told me much about him, as he completed his apprenticeship quickly and reached journeyman status just as we were forming the company. He was the one who suggested Ori join, as scribe and record keeper. Dori and Nori promptly volunteered.” 

“And?” Billa replied in a coaxing tone. 

“I noted his fighting skills to cover him if need be, whatever foe arose, as I would any weaker fighter, and his brother’s skills more than made up for his lack. Dori is unbelievably strong and Nori nimble and quick. I suppose I picked up more about Ori during the journey than I thought. I tend to think of battle skills first.” He shook his head, annoyed with himself. 

“That’s what you’ve needed traveling with a small company, my heart.” 

“What I’ve needed for years, protecting my people, but still.” He stroked her hair and kissed the side of her head. “I chose some non-warriors with the eye to rebuilding after, and then promptly set my mind back to security and finding a way into the mountain. I am seeing, these last few weeks, small changes since the Carrock. A change in them. A change in myself.” He gave her a small half-hug. “Perhaps it was the victory over the goblins and the orcs, and the company bonding, as you said. Perhaps the knowledge that The Defiler and his minions are no longer hunting us. Perhaps it is that as my heart turned to yours, perhaps because we could see Erebor, I have become....” 

She cleared her throat. “Um, less moody? More hopeful, less angry?” 

A rueful chuckle, and he set his cheek against her temple. “Yes,” he admitted. “Perhaps less of a majestic idiot.”

Billa snorted and leaned into him. “What’s the change you see in yourself, love? Other than the obvious.” 

“I find myself thinking less of killing Smaug. I had not...” He shook his head. “Dwarrow carry grudges, Billa, and I have been in righteous wroth with a dragon most of my life. My thoughts of Erebor were mostly of avenging the destruction of my home and my people by Smaug. Punishment for our losses, the years of wandering...”

“And now?”

He shrugged, his face lightening. “I want him dead and gone, make no mistake, for all those reasons, but more now because I want to take back my home and rebuild it. I have thoughts of busy mines, trade halls, and comfortable quarters. I see the garden terrace I want to clear for you. I think of firing my forge and making whatever we need to begin those things. Before, my chiefest thought was Smaug. Now....” He made a sweeping motion with his hand.

“Toss out the trash and set things to rights?” Billa offered. “We’ll need a really large rubbish tip.” Thorin chuckled and Billa pressed against him affectionately. “Perhaps you are ready to, what was it you said? ‘Look under the surfaces of things with a calmer heart?’ Time to put battle skills aside a bit, yourself included, and look ahead to what we might need next and who can do it, when we have quiet moments.” 

“Yes,” he agreed, voice low and richly affectionate. He turned her slightly, strong arm curling her closer, and tipped her face up for a warm kiss. His palm on her shoulder urged her to stay, as he pressed a slow kiss to her cheek. “Have I said, pearl of the evening, how precious it is to me to talk with you like this? To have such a perceptive wife?” 

Billa pressed her smile against his shoulder, blushing. “You might have mentioned it. I’m glad.” 

“And,” he drawled, and threading through a handful of her wet hair to watch it fall. “Here you are sitting naked as can be in a river with your new husband, guards around the bend, mulling over statecraft, my kingship, and the talents of our people.” He pressed his mouth to her ear. “Without once being overwhelmed.” 

“Oh! You!” Billa splashed a little water at him. “That was sneaky!” 

“Hardly, my pearl,” he growled happily, sending a splash back, sweeping her up and heading for deeper water, clearly intent on play. Billa gripped his shoulders. 

“Thorin, Thorin, I can’t swim!” Billa’s voice came out more panicky than she intended.

He stilled and held her close, one hand cupping her head, comforting and solid. “I did not know. Thank you for the warning, and my apologies.” He looked into her face. “Why not?” 

“Most hobbits tend not to, tending to stick to the shallows and small boats, barring the Brandybucks, who are considered quite eccentric.” She shook herself, knowing she was starting to babble. “We’re rather small, round and heavy, and rivers and tend to be.... large and rougher and deeper than we like.” 

“Would you like me to teach you?” he asked gently, stroking her hair. “I taught Kili and Fili.” 

“I think I’d like that.” Billa replied, voice a little shaky. “But we’ve already been in the water enough to prune a bit.” 

“It’s no matter,” he said, his voice still low and soothing. “You may be small, and pleasingly round,” he rumbled, hands skimming over her curves “But you are light as a leaf, and will float like one, I know.” Billa nodded, and gave him a tiny smile. 

“One small lesson and we’ll head back to your rock?” He looked at her for permission, and at her shy nod, patted her thigh. “Let your legs drop.“ With a start, Billa realized at some point she’d wound herself around him like a fauntling, ankles crossed behind his back. Blushing, she unclasped her legs and let them dangle, arms still around his neck. Her toes barely brushed the riverbed, and her breath hitched once, anxiously. Thorin’s hands settled at her waist. 

“I won’t let you go,” he said softly. “You’re doing fine. I want you to get a feel for the water, what it’s like to glide. Keep your arms around me. Did anyone ever twirl you in the air when you were small?” Billa nodded. “Well, this is a bit like that, but with the water holding you up. I’m going to walk backwards, pulling you, and you’re going to let your legs float up behind you. You can kick a bit if you like, but concentrate on being as light as a leaf, relaxed and free. You’re perfectly safe. I’m right here. Breathe through your nose, so you won’t get a mouthful of water by mistake. If you’re afraid or want to stop, tap me on the shoulder.” 

[He did just as he said, eyes intent on hers all the while, ](http://hattedhedgehog.tumblr.com/image/78793971427)and as he pulled her through the water, Billa felt her legs rise and float. What an odd, lovely sensation. She kicked her feet experimentally. Thorin’s eyebrows shot up, a proud smile spreading across his face. “That’s good, very good!” He kept walking, circling round and round their calm little pocket of the river. He leaned forward and gave her a gentle kiss. “Now, will you hold my forearms and kick while I pull you, do you think you can do that? I think you can stand here. ” 

Billa could stand and touch the riverbed, so she did, took a deep breath, and clasped Thorin’s forearms. “Ready.” 

“You don’t have to do this," he said gently. "It will keep."

“My mother always said that courage is being afraid of something, and doing it anyway,” she said firmly. “I’m ready.” 

“Brave pearl. Now push off the bottom and kick.” He slowly walked backwards, hands steady on hers, and Billa pushed off the bottom and kicked, eyes flying wide open when it _worked._

Thorin’s bright, admiring smile was her reward _and_ her goal and she kicked toward it with growing confidence. His strong arms held her steady, and he gave her soft little corrections, reminding her to keep her mouth closed and her chin up, for now, she’d be face down and swimming like a fish in no time, concentrate on kicking, keep breathing. 

Over and over he murmured how well she was doing, how strong she was, and Billa could see him taking this loving, encouraging manner with his nephews, imagine their small, trusting faces. She could see it so clearly, and her heart swelled so full of joy that she faltered, for only a second, but his hands were there, instantly bearing her up. That extra bit of care, patient, observant, instinctive, given lovingly, brought Billa to a sharp moment of clarity: Thorin as a father. 

He would be wonderful, and she wanted a child, more than one child, with Thorin, with an intensity she’d not expected. The other night before the fire, it was a nice idea, but now? That small, warm idea, lodged in her breast, blossomed in full, and the glow of it spread through her, strengthening her will, lightening her heart. Light as a leaf, and looking forward to building a life. She sent fierce prayers to Eru Ilúvatar and his servants, Yavanna, Mahal, _everyone_ for a child. Everyone good. 

They had circled around close to their rock, and Thorin started making little shushing, slowing noises, as if to calm a pony, and amused, Billa slowed her kicks. He let her hands slip down his wrists until he was holding her up with just the press of her hands against his fingers, a full arm’s-length away, still bearing her up, and she swam to him, quivering with excitement. 

He bent his arms as she drew near, helping her keep steady until she butted against his chest. He pulled her arms around his neck and caught her about the waist, smiling so broadly she had to press her hands to his cheeks, to taste that smile, to kiss him, laughing, smacking kisses from the joy of it, this morning, this day, their life to come...

“I can swim,” she whispered to him, so giddy she had to kick a few times, splashing.

Thorin brushed her wet hair from her face, nodding, beaming at her, joyful, proud, and so loving. “You can swim,” he murmured in reply, the lines at the corners of his eyes crinkling with delight. Billa had to kiss those, too, and his cheeks, and his nose and his dear mouth. She lingered there, trying to kiss him properly, though she couldn't stop smiling, but not really caring very much if it worked well at all.

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the most sex I've written for one story ever, and I applaud everyone who has ever written a piece with multiple extended love scenes. It is much heavier lifting than it looks, and my hat's off to you. Trying to keep it fresh with plot and character development woven in, because honestly, the action doesn't really stop even when someone is getting some action, ifyaknowwhatImean.


	5. Apprentice: Beloved Companion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More adjustments to one another, while primarily naked. Soap is involved. Also dwarrow customs and beliefs about marriage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all's response, kudos and comments have been amazing. Thank you. The epilogue is now longer than the fic it followed, so. Oops? The epilogue and the first part of the Making of a Queen sorta mesh, soooo, I let them stay meshed rather than pick them apart. 
> 
> Checkout the fantastic picture hattedhedgehog made, based on this scene, [here!](http://hattedhedgehog.tumblr.com/post/72671093673/inspired-by-chapter-5-of-the-fem-bilbo-fic-and)

~~~

Billa eventually stopped smiling enough to trade a few proper, if still playful, kisses that soon shaded into the sort that had desire curling warm through her belly.  She shivered against Thorin’s mouth, and he broke the kiss. 

“Cold?” he asked, his voice husky.

Billa bit her lip and smiled, mischievous.  “No.”

He hummed, pleased, eyes darting to her mouth, and he leaned in to kiss her, soothe his tongue over the bitten place.  When he was satisfied, he asked her, voice low, _that_ voice, “May I wash your hair, my pearl?” 

“No.” 

Thorin’s brows rose.  

“I see how it is in this marriage now,” she said, pitching her own voice low, calm that belied the delicious quiver in her belly,  “I am going to have to fight for every moment I can to tend to you.  You’ve had most of the last two days to do lovely things for me and to me, with an exception or two.” 

Deciding a reminder might be in order, she kept her eyes on his, leaned forward, and slowly bit his lower lip.  As she watched, his eyes fell shut, lashes fluttering, and Billa’s own breath caught.  She gave herself into a kiss for a moment, just a moment.  Thorin’s hands tightened on her waist and she forced herself away, dragging her teeth over his lip as slowly as she could, opening her own eyes in time to see his, a languid, slow blink at odds with his blazing eyes, his lower lip red and swollen and wet from her mouth. 

“Notable.  Exceptions,” he rasped. 

“Thank you,” she whispered graciously, knowing her cheeks were blushing blood red.  “You can’t wash my hair now, my heart, because I am going to be washing yours, and whatever else might be needful.”

“Needful,” he croaked, his hands flexing against her skin, his breath coming quick in his throat, blush high and fierce across the top of his cheeks.  She understood now, understood why he said it was hard not to stare at Beorn’s lodge when Thorin's eyes on her had caused Billa to breathe like that.  The grace of his body, the lift of his breast, indeed, and to know it was because of her. 

She spread her hands over his shoulders, smoothing her hands over his skin, and down across the planes of his chest, scratching her nails through his chest hair, stroking over his sides to where his chest began to taper to his waist, just above the water line.  Thorin cleared his throat.

“You seem to lack soap.”

“All in good time,” she assured him, and leaned forward to put her mouth over one of his nipples, licking at his water-cooled skin until he sighed.  She set her fingers around the other nipple, squeezing it firmly as she began to use her teeth on him.  He moaned, low and broken, one hand rising to cradle the back of her head. 

“I am beginning to think,” Thorin said hoarsely.  “That my plan may....”

“Mmm?”  Billa switched sides, dragged her teeth firmly across her new target and Thorin’s knees buckled, just a little.  Billa grinned to herself (well, maybe a small internal squealing dance) and kept working, aiming for another lovely moan. 

“My...plan...”  Thorin said, dazed.  “I had.  Mmm.” 

Billa leaned back in Thorin’s arms, stroking his chest.  She put her thumbnail experimentally against one nipple, pressing in until the skin dented.  She heard more than saw him swallow hard, his quick, shaking breath.  The hand on the back of her head trailed down her hair to the nape of her neck, then to her shoulder, restless.  The hand on her waist was kneading her skin with equal restlessness; his tension rising with what she hoped was anticipation.  Billa took a deep breath and scraped across the flat little nub, a scrape she knew would hurt her but....

Thorin’s breath came out in a low moan, one of those lovely ones that, had she been close enough, were deep enough to feel it rumble against her skin.  She liked the way it curled up a little at the end, as if hoping for more.  Encouraged, she put both thumbs into place, pressed in, and on instinct, paused.  His head fell back on yet another deep moan, pressing his chest into her hands.    

“What was that about your plan?”  Billa asked, unable to keep the quiver out of her voice, shaken by his response, his trust. 

“It.  I.”  He blinked at the sky, struggling to talk.  “I had thought to watch you, woo you, your skin sparkling with water, my hands in your hair, on your skin, slick with soap.  Perhaps have you rise for me...before...before we...”

“Before we go back to bed?”  Billa leaned forward and placed a sweet kiss to the center of his chest. 

Thorin was looking down at her when she leaned back.  He cupped her cheek.  “I had not counted on you.  My passionate pearl."

Turning her head, she kissed his palm, letting her hands pet across his chest gently.  “What was it you said?”  she asked sweetly.  “A plan rarely lasts past the first skirmish?”  She found his nipples again, pressed in, and _scraped_. 

His knees truly did buckle this time, as his voice rumbled out a guttural growl that Billa’s body responded to instantly, a low throb of heat in her belly and breasts tightening, heavy with want.  She moaned with him, trembling, and he caught her up, lifting her to crush his mouth to hers, urging her to wrap her legs around his waist again while he kissed her, nearly desperate with it. 

A few heady moments and he tore himself away from her mouth to lift her higher, to feast on her breasts, teeth and tongue worrying at her nipples in gentle echo of what she’d done to him.  Then he pushed in close, almost flattening her breast against her ribs, the pressure nearly calming the wanting ache, and suckled at her hard enough to make the muscles deep inside her clench and pulse.  Her own head fell back on a longing cry, which turned to a surprised yip as Thorin lifted her even higher, her thighs above his shoulders, as he drew her in to press an opened mouthed kiss to her pearl, to suckle gently on it as well while she keened and shuddered against him.

Billa hardly had time to settle her weight on his shoulders before he brought her down again to press his mouth to hers, cool with the water from her skin, his hands moving greedy and slow over her back, her thighs, her hips.  He broke the kiss gently. 

“Desire is a double-edged sword,” he said hoarsely.  “And in your hands, a very sharp one.”

“Hnngh,” Billa replied, woozy from her short, heady trip above the waterline.  She dropped her head against his shoulder.  “So,” she said when she could find her voice.  “Back to bed?” 

Thorin waded the short distance to their rock, and placed her gently on the small ledge.  He stood before her in water nearly waist deep, body relaxed, eyes blazing bright.  “I’d prefer not.”  He reached for her palms and kissed them, one after the other.  “Fire and balm, these hands.  Another treasure from you.”  He gave her the bar of honey soap.  “I’d like you to continue, if you would, my wife.”  His voice lowered.  “I won’t disturb your work again.”  

Billa blinked at him.  “ _Disturb_ is not the word I’d use,” she said, awed and approving.  To her delight, Thorin ducked his head, his smile at bit crooked.  She reached out for him and he drifted closer.  She put her hand on his cheek and curled her legs around him lightly.  “Beloved, to have you respond so; I would not miss that for the world.” 

His smile was a bit stunned as he took her hand from his cheek to kiss it and hold it over his heart.  “Another name for me.” 

“It’s been rising in me this morning; dear heart, beloved husband.  All you.” 

He closed his eyes and kissed her palm again, sighing, content, and when his eyes opened, his expression was both peaceful and full of desire.  He touched the soap, long forgotten, gripped loosely in her fist.  “I would have you hands on me, beloved wife.  To revel in your touch before I tend to you.  I think that would,” a quick flash of a grin, “teach me well to consider that double-edged sword before starting play.” 

“Well, then,” Billa said softly, unwinding her legs and giving him a small push.  “Off you go; get your hair completely wet.” 

Another quick grin.  “Yes, dear,” and sank beyond her sight.

Billa was idly working up lather in her hands with the soap when Thorin exploded from the water, droplets flying everywhere.  He stood, smoothing his hair back from his face with both hands, which made the muscles of his arms and chest stand out sharply in the afternoon light.  She was understandably distracted by this, and before she knew it, he’d slid through the water to float in front of her, bracing himself with hands on either side of her thighs, his face level with hers and quite close. 

“Where would you like me?”  He asked with innocence that was just a shade too pure. 

“Here’s fine,” Billa replied softly, letting her eyebrows tell him she was on to his tricks.  She put the soap on a handy ridge of rock and smoothed her lathered hands through his beard, enjoying the feel of it growing softer and slick under her touch.  She massaged his cheeks and chin and neck carefully, smilingly smoothed soapy thumbs across his mustache, which was apparently a bit ticklish, then curled one hand around his cheek while using the other, palm cupped, to rinse the soap away. 

“There,” she said, when the she was done, rubbing her palms along his jaw.  He was watching her, expression slightly puzzled. 

“What is it?”  

“I had not realized how intimate that would be.  Something only spouses do.” 

Billa smiled.  “And a good thing, since I’m your wife.  I’ve had my hands on your face before.  A great many times.”

“But not quite like this.  Washing my beard.  Not tending to me like this.”

She stroked his cheekbone with her thumb.  “And you like that.” 

He let her see how much, his gaze going loving, humbled, and hungry; black-lashed stars.  Billa drew his face to hers and kissed him softly, once and again.  When she released him, he stared at her mouth. 

“I said I wouldn’t,” he said humbly.  “But.  Please.” 

“Of course.”  He leaned forward and it was a slow kiss, but intense, as if he were trying to say something he couldn’t quite get out in words.  She relaxed into it and let him take his fill; let him tell her what he needed.  When he was done, he pressed his forehead to hers. 

“Husband, you are very welcome.”  Beneath her palms, she could feel his cheeks plump with a smile. 

“Wife,” he murmured, voice slow and golden with affection. 

“I had no idea how delicious those words were until it’s someone you can name as yours.” 

He darted in for a quick peck.  “Exactly.” 

“All right now,” she said firmly, and patted his cheeks as she pushed him away a bit.  “Turn around or we’ll be here ‘til supper time, too pruney to shamble out of the water, and Dwalin and Ori will come looking for us and be shocked senseless.” 

“I doubt Dwalin will....” 

“Well, Ori, then.  I’m fond of him and don’t want him to expire from blushing.  Plus, he might be too embarrassed around me to let me borrow books anymore.” 

“Is _that_ why we must hurry?” 

“Not hurry so much as....” 

“As?” his voice rose, teasing, as he noticed just how hard she was blushing. 

She chanced her own death by blushing to meet his eyes squarely.  “I’d like you to turn around so I may wash your hair, so that you may turn back and I may wash the rest.” 

“Oh,” he said faintly, and rested his forehead against hers.  He seemed to be gathering his strength.   

Billa allowed herself another internal, squealing jig, and outwardly patted his shoulders and murmured.  “Turn around.” 

“Must I?” he said plaintively, eyes round and sorrowful.  “When you braided my hair....”

“Neither of us were naked and therefore, as distractible.  I thought you said you would not disturb me, beloved.”  She tapped his nose in warning.  “Honestly, it’s like you’re a tween who’s just discovered breasts.” 

“But they’re such lovely....” Billa felt utterly justified in pushing him down and away under the water. 

“I deserved that,” Thorin admitted when he surfaced, and Billa was absolutely unmoved by the whole brushing-hair-back-displaying-his-arm-and-chest-muscles maneuver this time.  She dragged her gaze to his face. 

“You really did,” she said.  “And you realize the more you delay, the longer it will be until my hands are on you, and longer still until yours are on me.” 

“Your practical nature does you credit.” 

Billa inclined her head graciously, and beckoned him forward to sit between her legs.  He gave her a long-suffering look.  She motioned for him to turn around.  When he did, he was still a bit too tall for her to reach his scalp, so she rose out of the water to sit on a slightly higher ledge, leaving her waist deep in the river and just about the perfect height.  She tapped his shoulder to nudge him in front of her, which, she realized with a pang, left him possibly a bit chilly, so she pulled him close with her legs loosely around his waist. 

Thorin slid his palms down her calves to her feet, smoothing the hair and ruffling it back, over and over, and when she wiggled, putting a warning heel on his stomach, torn between loving the caress and finding it far too ticklish, he behaved, caressing her ankles and feet in slow, dreamy strokes instead.

Billa worked up a good lather between her hands before starting on Thorin’s hair.  It was just as thick as could be, and fought her a bit, much like her own curly waves.  Once she had it to her liking, she dug her fingers down into his scalp, massaging his head firmly, and his head dropped back, a grateful moan escaping from his throat.  She kept up the massage until his hands were loose around her ankles and he was practically slumped in her arms, boneless.  Billa wished she could see his face and had to make do imagining his peaceful, relaxed expression. 

She worked the soap down to the ends, and then draped it over his shoulder to wash his back, noting with a pang several old, white scars and the still pink of the ones from the battle with the orcs.  This was going to be part of her life now, so different from the comfortable and peaceful Shire. 

“Tell me, beloved,” she asked as she did her best to dig into the taut muscles of his shoulders, practically needing to stand to get the leverage, but worth it when he made a noise of pure relief and pleasure.  “You said you were taught how to please a wife.  Are women taught the same for their husbands?  Is it the same for Dwalin and Ori?”

When he spoke, his voice was relaxed and soft.  “Not so much different for them, no.  We are all taught the same basic rights and duties of marriage, and then males and females....  I don’t know what the females are taught.  Females are so rare, observations about pleasing a wife are handed down like the most precious lore.”  She could hear the smile in his voice.  “I shouldn’t even be telling you some of the secrets, lest I spoil delighting you.” 

Billa gave his shoulders an extra squeeze.  “Doubtful, my heart.  I would like to know what you could tell me, but perhaps you we ought to get that soap out of your hair first.” 

She tried to run a few handfuls of water over it, as she had his beard, but it would be slow going like that.  She patted his shoulders.  “Rinse off and I’ll finish your back.” 

“More of my back?”  There was that plaintive note again, sounding so young.  She ran her hands down his back from nape all the way to the curves of his bottom, which she massaged lightly, feeling very bold. 

“Yes, more.”  She dug her fingers in and he groaned, arching into her touch.

“Billa,” he said, his voice breaking.  “I...I won’t be able to stand if you do that.” 

“Perhaps a massage for you, too, later, when we can lie down,” she murmured, giving him a small push.  “Come back to me.”

Thorin stumbled into the deeper water, his knees seeming to collapse as he ducked his head.  He returned, so beautiful, hair dripping around his shoulders, and fully hard, ready for her.  Billa swayed, longing for him ripping through her, hot and molten. 

“‘A wife should never have to ask for love,’” he said, voice low, looking at her with such desire, such tenderness, but coming no closer.  “‘Her husband should learn to see when she wants his touch, by her glances, the movements of her body, the tone of her voice.  He should listen, not just with his ears, but body and heart, to the touches that please her most, and give them to her, unstintingly.  Give of your body as you do your mind and heart to her, and she will be most content.” 

“Thorin,” Billa said, confused, shaken, tears thick in her throat.  She reached for him, and he walked into the circle of her arms, reached to cup her cheek, and continued quoting, his eyes on hers.

“‘If you find your One, know she is the other half of your spirit, but wholly herself.  Do not seek to trap her to keep her near, to force her to your will, but set yourself before her eyes and open your heart, so that she may see the whole of you, and her heart may open in return to seek yours.  Done in all honor and in earnest, she can become your beloved true companion in life, and you will be hers, joined at the heart, in body, in mind, and in spirit.  This always should be your aim in marriage, and the greatest treasure you will ever find.” 

“Thorin,” Billa said again, her voice choked, tears now flowing down her cheeks.  “That is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard.”  She drew him close and wrapped herself around him, shaking.  His hands were gentle on her skin.  “Is that why you liked it so when I called you ‘beloved’?”  She felt him nod.

“I did not mean to make you cry,” he whispered.  “I meant to tell you how very much I am yours and to apologize.  When you touch me, when you look at me with such love, my heart springs wide open.  I struggle sometimes to wait for your signs, and I tease.  I push.  I had not known how greedy I would be for you; how wonderful and how difficult it would be at the same time.” 

“We can go back ….”

Thorin’s hands tightened on her waist, her thigh.  “No!  Yes, but...”

Bill pulled back to look into his face to give him a commiserating smile.  “Me, too.  It’s not just you.”  Some of the tension went out of him.  She took the soap, plucked his hand from her thigh, and closed his fingers around the bar.  “No companion above the other, Kurdu ‘Abadaz, is my thinking, but struggling through together.  I would no more ask of you to hinder or deny your response to me than you would of me.  If there’s something I don’t like, I’ll say.  Truly.” 

He looked at the bar of soap, then at her. 

“I think we can tend to one another together, trade off, don’t you?”  She rubbed a finger across the soap and dabbed it on his nose.  “Beloved,” she confided.  “My hair is a fright.” 

He gave her a small, sweet smile.  “It is my right, my duty and my desire to render all aid to you, my wife.”

“And I, you.” 

Thorin eyed her half-dried riot of hair.  “I think first...”  Billa slid her hands around his shoulders.

“I trust you not to drown me.”

That tender, starry-eyed look again, and Thorin’s eyes did not leave hers as he put the bar of soap out of harm’s way and drew her into the water.  He held her in one arm to brush the traces of tears from her face, and then scooped up water to trickle over her scalp, getting her hair wet enough to wash.

Billa watched him, basking in his care, as he carried her back to shallower water.  He settled her with her back against his chest, leaning against their rock, one foot hooked loosely around her calf as if to make sure she didn’t slip away as he reached for the soap.  Billa smiled, ran her hand down his thigh, and kept it there, anchoring herself. 

Then he began to wash her hair, massaging gently but firmly, working the soap in and she sighed long and low, swaying a little.  “Favorite part of being married,” she groaned.

“My hands in your hair?” 

“Mmmmm.” 

A dry chuff of laughter and then his voice was a low, seductive murmur.  “I must try harder then, with other matters.”  He used his leg to tug her a little closer and Billa could feel him, hard, nestled against the small of her back and the curves of her bottom.  She gripped his thigh and tilted her hips to rub against him, just a little.  His hands faltered in her hair and he answered her with one slow thrust.  

“This is my favorite part, too,” she confessed, gasping.   

A breath of a laugh and Thorin’s soapy hands moved over her shoulders, down and under her arms, up her waist.  They settled on her breasts, cupping them, then stroking the undersides on the flat of his palms, all the while rocking so gently against her, it barely made a ripple in the water. 

He drew slow spirals on her breasts, working his way from the outermost curves inward, slow, slow, slow, until she was shaking from it; her breasts had never been so sensitive, aching, and Thorin’s breath was ragged, warm on her neck as he curled closer to her, and she could hear herself whimpering, pressing closer, tilting her head back to beg him for a firmer touch.... and soap ran in her eye.  Billa jerked away, growling with annoyance and stumbling forward to splash water on her face. 

Thorin’s arms came around her.  “I have you, tilt your head back.”  He pulled them down until they were neck deep in the river, and ran handful after handful of water over her eye.  His hand cupped the back of her head firmly and she steadied herself with her hands clutching his arms.  

“Open your eye, Pearl, we must get the last of it out.” 

Billa stared sightlessly at the sky, wincing at the sting of the water and finally, it was clear. “There. Thank you.”

“Stay back and let me rinse your hair,” Thorin said softly.  He bent his knees so they sank a little further, until the water lapped at her hairline.  He ruffled and combed his hand through her hair until he was satisfied, then drew her close.

Billa opened her eyes.  “Oops,” she said glumly, looking into Thorin’s carefully calm face.  He made a tiny strangled noise, eyes dancing with mirth, and when Billa’s responding smile began to crack, he snickered and dropped his head on her shoulder, laughing with her, twirling them in the water. 

When Billa could find her feet on the riverbed, she leaned back and pushed at his shoulders a little, backing out of the embrace.  She took his inquiring face in her hands and whispered, “My turn,” and pushed through the water, walking to their rock.  He eeled around her, gliding through the water and reached it before she did, going to stand where he had before, leaning against he rock, his body on display from head to thigh.  He pushed his hair back behind his shoulders and held out a hand to draw her near.  Billa went a little lightheaded, taking in his half-lidded, smoldering gaze, and his obvious arousal.  She took his hand and he pulled her gently the last few steps, and placed her hand over his heart. 

Billa reached behind him for the soap, pressing closer to him, his sex hard against her belly.  She had to stand tiptoe to reach the bar, set on a ridge of rock above the waterline, and of necessity, truly, rubbed up his length and down as she settled back on her feet.

“Mahal,” Thorin swore softly, his eyelids fluttering closed.  He took a shaky breath and let it out slowly.  Billa worked up lather in her hands and began at his collarbone, smoothing the soap down the planes of his chest, under his arms and down his sides, then came back to stroke through his chest hair. 

She reached for the soap again and lathered her hands pressed against him, Thorin shivered and locked his hand at the small of her back, holding her on tiptoe, pressed together chest to thigh.  Catching her gaze, he rolled his hips into hers twice.  Billa reached around and stroked her soapy hands down his back to his bottom, to cup his curves, nestle closer and rock with him until their breath was hitching, their eyes glazed with pleasure and Billa was nearly off balance, standing on her toes for so long.  He kissed her nose and with a long sigh, let her slide back down his body. 

Billa took a moment to steady herself, then continued to stroke down his chest, following the line of hair as it ran down his stomach.  She shifted her weight back, making space between them, and ran both hands past his navel to the beautiful flat plain of his belly, absently noting Thorin’s shaking hands closing around her shoulders. 

She swirled her hands through the dark thatch of hair between his legs, sweeping across the outside of his thighs and stoking up the inner, smoother skin to cup his darkly furred sac gently, weighing it in her hand.  Billa was shaking inside with desire and the weight of his trust, feeling oddly tender and protective of the only part of him that wasn’t hard and muscular, but soft and nearly unbearably fragile.  She smoothed her thumb over it, gentle, then moved her hand in a rolling caress.

Thorin made a desperate, whimpering sound, trembling, hands restless on her arms, her shoulders.  She closed a careful, firm hand around his sex, and stoked downward, once, exposing the red-flushed head.  Thorin inhaled sharply, causing his belly to jump, and she put a calming hand on him as she studied the contrast of hard and soft, the skin that revealed and concealed. 

She frowned, annoyed at the slick of the soap and water, wanting to feel the warmth and texture of his skin.  This part of him was just as beautifully proportioned as the rest, and she wanted to know more.  She moved her hand again, slowly, mimicking the rhythm they used when they were joined.  She stroked him twice from root to tip, and again, reminding herself of thicker dwarf skin, trying a firmer stroke, and rubbed her thumb over the puffy head, then once more, firmer still.  Thorin flung his arms out to grab on to the rock ledge as his knees buckled, a guttural growl rising from his chest.  He shook and began to chant something aloud in Khuzdul.  It sounded like a list.  Billa paused, trembling herself at the sight of him like this, fiercely beautiful, nearly lost in pleasure, and savored the gift. 

“Precious metals and their alloys?” 

He nodded once, his breath slowing as the he wound down. 

“Stop?”  Billa asked in a small voice, loosening her grip.  He nodded again, swallowing hard.  She let him go, and she scooped up water to rinse the soap away from him, careful not to touch.

“I…we…I had my pleasure with you twice today, twice last night,” he said, his voice strained, bewildered, staring at the sky as he mastered himself.  “You would think my hunger for you would be _slightly_ satisfied.  That I wouldn’t respond to your hand like an untried youth.”

“Sorry?”  Billa replied meekly.  Thorin snorted into helpless laughter, pressed his hands against his face a moment, then stepped deeper into the river to rinse off.  Billa quickly used the soap transferred to her body rubbing against her husband to finish washing herself.  He rose out of the water and came close, but did not touch her.  She looked up at him and smiled.

“In your defense, we have been playing quite awhile,” she said softly. 

“Yes.”  He stared at her, expression a combination of hunger and rueful restraint.

“Thorin.  Beloved.”

He was staring at her mouth.  His hands twitched at his sides.  “Yes?”

“Take me to bed.”

A great sigh of relief and he rushed forward, handed her the soap, grabbed her shift with one hand, picked her up, and walked to shore.  He darted back to gather his sword and their water bottles while she struggled into her shift, and leaned to the side to wring out her hair a bit, enjoying the view.  He watched her with a languid, almost predatory gaze as he threw his shirt on, and gaze sharpening as she tucked her skirt around her like a shawl and folded her bodice and pantaloons into her hand. 

“That’s all you’re wearing?” he rasped.  Billa shrugged and cleared her throat delicately.

“Will I need them?”

“Mahal,” He thrust his feet into his boots, then noted he was still holding his pants.  Billa pressed her lips together tightly as she watched him clearly think about walking to their cave bare-bottomed.  She turned her head and looked at the forest, shoulders shaking with silent mirth as he cursed his way into getting things in their proper order.  A scrape of his boot on a rock was all the notice she got before he scooped her up and strode toward their chambers. 

“We should have just run for it, naked,” he growled. 

“And have Dwalin think someone’s pursuing us?” 

“Not if we’d been quiet.” 

Billa elected not to say anything about her experience of listening to dwarrow crashing through the woods.  “Should we tell him we’ve left the river?”

Thorin tightened his hold on her.  “Your pillow talk, my pearl, is distressingly about another dwarf.” 

“What pillow?” 

He stopped, looked down at her, eyes narrowed, exasperated.  “It’s a figure of speech.” 

“Mmm hmm.”  Billa pressed her lips together again, trying to keep on point and not to laugh.  “Shall I give a shout?  So we _won’t be disturbed_ when they find we’ve gone.” 

Thorin blinked, finally getting it.  He turned his head and bellowed.  “Dwalin!  Going back!” 

“Understood!” 

Finally succumbing, Billa snickered, which she tried to hide against her own wrist, and then giggled as Thorin jostled her to catch her eye, looking puzzled, making the water bottles and sword clank together at his hip, which was suddenly just _hilarious_.  He looked at her, mouth wavering on the edge of a laugh, but also obviously concerned for her sanity. 

“Pants,” she gasped in explanation.  He rolled his eyes, a blush flaring high on his cheekbones. 

“Not my finest moment.”  His mouth twitched. 

“It was very fetching,” Billa breathed, laugher curling at the corners of her mouth, her eyes wide.  “I would have gladly, gladly _followed_ you anywhere.” 

Thorin groaned, buried his face in her neck, and blew against her skin, the rude noise rolling loud around them.  She shrieked with laughter, kicking her feet with joy. 

“You mock me when I wear pants, you mock me when I _don’t_ …” 

“You just need to learn when it’s appropriate to go without them, my heart,” she replied, waving the small bundle of clothing she carried. 

Thorin stopped still, closed his eyes for a moment, and breathed deeply.  “Durin’s beard, Billa, don’t remind me what you are _not_ wearing.  I’ve never been so hard for so long in my life.”  He blew out a breath, shook his head, and continued walking. 

“If it would be easier, I can walk,” Billa offered softly.  Thorin’s eyes slanted over to hers, his expression eloquent. 

“Carrying you is the only thing keeping me from taking you on the forest floor, my pearl.”

Sometimes his voice was as effective as a touch, and this time it stroked her from breast to belly.  Billa shivered, moaning through a sigh.  She let her head loll back on his arm, suddenly breathless, but her mischief undimmed.  “That and The Pants of Self Restraint,” she gasped. 

He laughed, a short, surprised bark.  “We have touched and teased naked for well-nigh an hour, my pearl.  I _need_ no pants.” 

Billa beamed at him, nodding.  “Ooooh.  _Very_ fetching.  Follow you anywhere.” 

Realizing what he’d said, Thorin shook his head and started to laugh.  He shifted Billa so he could catch her mouth with his, and laughing, they crossed the threshold to their cave. 

He set her down with one last kiss, and turned to put his sword and their supplies away.  Billa regarded their pallet thoughtfully and shook a blanket out over the furs, since the two of them were still rather damp.  She was drawing her shift over her head when he caught her around the waist, lifting her to stand on their bed. 

Warm, naked, Thorin pressed against her, pulling her hips to his, keeping her close with an arm across her chest, one hand cupping her breast, the other on her belly as he rocked.  Billa groaned gratefully, pressing back into him, and tilted her head back against his chest.  He leaned to press his cheek against hers.

“No guards, no friends, no soap this time to stop us,” he murmured into her ear, and she both moaned and laughed, nearly breathless.

“I very nearly let you have me on the wet rocks.” 

Thorin hissed, pressed against her and held her still while his hands moved on her greedily.  “Do _not_ put such thoughts in my head.”  She quivered in his hands, her hips moving in tiny jerks.  He slid his hand down her belly to cup her sex and stroke her, ruffling the hair between her legs. 

Billa keened, bucking against him, restless, seeking relief.  A slide and a thrust and a curl of his fingers and she rose, a small, sharp peak, longing groan in her throat, her body shuddering against him.  She moaned his name softly, reaching to run her hand over the arm holding her up.

“Billa,” he whispered as she trembled against him.  “Like this?” 

“No.”  She clutched at his hand.  “I…I need to see you.” 

He turned her in his arms to kiss her, brush her hair back from her face.  “What is your wish, my queen?” 

“I wish to tend to you, husband.”  She trailed her hand down his side and between them, to cup him in her hand.  Thorin swallowed hard.  “I was not quite done.”

“You will not have to tend me long,” he said hoarsely. 

They half-reclined on the pallet in a series of soft touches and softer kisses.  Billa could feel the mingled restraint and anticipation coiled in Thorin’s muscles and instinctively stoked his arms and shoulders in long, smooth strokes, trying to conjure true peace.  She lay half-sprawled against his chest, trading lush kisses until he sighed, some of the tension draining out of him. 

Humming happily, she scraped her nails lightly through his beard, and turned his head to bite the edge of his jaw, press her mouth to his skin, sucked and bit down his throat to where neck met shoulder.  She hovered there, lips a scant inch away, just breathing.

“Billa,” he whispered, longing, his hand coming to cup the back of her head.  She bit down, tongue swirling against his skin and he groaned, arching, his feet pushing against the pallet, restless.  “Billa, please.” 

She bit and licked and scratched her way down his chest, his stomach, nose nuzzling the line of hair pointing the way further down.  When she finally touched him, she was surprised the skin of his sex was so soft, like silk velvet over iron.  Fascinated, she stoked it with her fingers, and then down, to cup his sac in her hand.  It was…somewhat firmer, tighter, and different than it had been at the river.  Billa frowned, smoothing her thumb over the tender skin carefully. 

“Tighter?”  Thorin’s voice was strained and hoarse.  When Billa looked up at him, his face was flushed, his mouth bitten and red.

“Yes,” Billa confirmed, “I…”

“Means I’m getting close,” he panted.  “When I say, tug on them gently, pull downward.” 

She looked at him.  He smiled, wolfish and beautiful.

“We’ll have more time.”  Thorin’s gorgeous deep voice made her dizzy with shyness this time, and feeling very much out of her depth.  She touched him tentatively, stroking his thigh, suddenly lost.   

It must have shown on her face, because Thorin leaned forward, his hand sliding around her cheek to tip her face up for a kiss.  He looked at her, eyes dark with hunger, and took her free hand to kiss the palm.  “Fire and balm, my pearl.  Your hands on me in _any_ way is wonderful.” 

“I want it to be like when you touch me, _more_ than wonderful,” she confessed. 

“Mizim, how could it not be, when no one has tended me so?”

Billa made a frustrated noise.  “That’s _why_.  I mean other…but…last night you were, it was…I never _imagined_ …” 

He pulled her into a hug.  “First, we have a lifetime, not just these few days.  Second, Billa,” He pushed back to look at her earnestly.  “You could lie on my legs, reading a book propped on my stomach eating…bonbons, and it would _still_ be exciting.”

She looked at him, blinking slowly, eyebrows raised.

“Not that I’m suggesting that,” he amended.  He shook his head.  “Just trying to say… truly, my pearl, every touch from you has been perfect.”  Encouraged, she pulled his face down for a kiss, then broke it abruptly, brow furrowed.

“Wait.  If the book was propped on your belly, and I was on your legs, then…”

Thorin huffed and nipped her lower lip playfully.  “My cock would be snug between your very lovely breasts, which I, hmmm…”  He shifted her so that he could arch her back comfortably, and bent her over his arm to stroke and suckle at her lovely breasts a moment, hoping to ease her and draw her back into lovemaking.  She melted beautifully under his mouth, sighing, her hands coming to tangle in his hair. 

After a moment, she asked, voice slow and dreamy, “But, if you were excited…wouldn’t it be frustrating, me lying there like that?”

Suddenly, he saw his way to help her, and chuckling, he switched breasts and murmured,  “Billa, how are pearls made?”

“Hmm?”

He kissed his way up her chest and neck to kiss her nose.  “I believe that we’ve proved that in your case, I can take a little irritation, a little _frustration_ , my pearl.” 

Billa gazed at him, puzzlement giving way to delighted realization.  Thorin had a brief second to consider what he’d just done to himself as Billa’s gaze sharpened with intent, then she was pressing him back into the pallet, biting her lip, eyes flashing.

“That seems a dangerous look in your eye, wife.”  It was thrilling to see.

“You are teaching me your crafts, husband.  Statecraft.”  She kissed him, a full-lipped, soft kiss, and braced herself on his chest and moved to sit astride his waist.  He exhaled, humming in approval, and put his hands on her waist to ground them both, and to feel her soft skin.  Another kiss, deeper this time.  “Lover.”  She plucked his hands from her waist, kissed his palms and threaded their fingers together and pressed forward, raising his arms until his palms were beside his head. 

She hovered there, a breath away, darting in occasionally to brush a kiss across his lips, just a hint of warmth.  He raised his head to capture her mouth, and she darted back, eyes teasing.  He groaned, just a little. 

“Oh, what I have I done?”

Billa rubbed his nose with hers.  “Made me feel strong, husband, when I became nervous and shy,” she said, leaning back to look him in the eye, such tenderness in her face that his love for her surged within him, catching in his throat.  Billa inhaled sharply, as if she’d been struck by something wonderful, her smile shading into joy. 

“I feel something, you know, when we’re together like this.” 

Thorin smirked.  “I should hope so.”  Billa rolled her eyes and nipped his nose. 

“No,” she said slowly, seriously, pushing against his hands.  “I think I can feel your heart.  Like a deep well, not of water, but of something gold and molten and so warm.  Like I’ll never be cold again.  It was what I heard when you sang in Bag End, and I had to follow you.  I felt it around me as we braided our courtship braids.  I felt it last night, so clearly, especially that second time, and again this morning.  I feel it right now.  Your heart calling to mine.”

Thorin closed his eyes and sighed, his breath hitching, tension he didn’t know he was holding seeping out of him.  He opened his eyes to look at her, at the happy tears brightening her eyes. 

“We traveled by the sea, once,” he told her.  “I stood on the shore, watched, listened, and felt such peace, an unexpected balm.  You are like that, to me.  The steady, peaceful surge of the sea.”

Her brows rose.  “The sea is not always peaceful.” 

He gave her a quick flash of a smile and a shrug.  “Just makes it all the more interesting.”

Billa threw her head back and laughed, then bent to kiss him, joyful, smiling.  He moved to unlace their fingers, put his arms around her, and she pushed back firmly, keeping his hands in place.. 

I think it would be _very_ frustrating not to touch me right now,” she said, her voice low and smoldering.  "Or at all, 'til I'm done tending you.”

Thorin groaned, catching fire for her again, skin alight, and pushed back with no strength at all.  “You wouldn’t.”

"I would."  She leaned forward, and laced his unresisting hands behind his head.  “I am a very irritating hobbit,” she assured him, and took his mouth in a deep, possessive kiss.

 

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweet mother of pearl it's 7,000 words of foreplay and character development and I just. ::falls over:: Y'all are probably squawking, but I hit the emotional point I wanted to make and faded to black. Everything else is just gravy. 
> 
> Y'all want the gravy, or more plot with clothes on? Lemme know. I might do a bonus chapter. Will Thorin be able to let go and be taken care of? Will Billa figure out how to work a penis? 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me!


	6. Apprentice: Ghivashel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Ghivashel_ is Khuzdul for treasure of all treasures. A million thanks to the Dwarrow Scholar for his incredible Khuzdul to English dictionary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the gravy chapter, as requested. :) 
> 
> Unbeta'd, so my appalling misuse of colons and semi-colons probably abound.

~~~

_“I believe that we’ve proved that in your case, I can take a little irritation, a little frustration, my pearl.”_

_Billa gazed at him, puzzlement giving way to delighted realization. Thorin had a brief second to consider what he’d just done to himself as Billa’s gaze sharpened with intent, then she was pressing him back into the pallet, biting her lip, eyes flashing._

_“That seems a dangerous look in your eye, wife.” It was thrilling to see._

_[…]Billa threw her head back and laughed, then bent to kiss him, joyful, smiling. He moved to unlace their fingers, put his arms around her, and she pushed back firmly, keeping his hands in place..._

_I think it would be very frustrating not to touch me right now,” she said, her voice low and smoldering. "Or at all, 'til I'm done tending you.”_

_Thorin groaned, catching fire for her again, skin alight, and pushed back with no strength at all. “You wouldn’t.”_

_"I would." She leaned forward, and laced his unresisting hands behind his head. “I am a very irritating hobbit,” she assured him, and took his mouth in a deep, possessive kiss._

~~~

A dwarf is rooted to the earth, to the stone he came from. He runs low to the ground, his ears are tuned to the vibrations of all that dwells beneath the soil: rock and water, gem and ore. His eyes see in the darkness of deep caves; his hands carve and mine and smith the earth’s treasure, use it to create: the dark earth made glorious. A dwarf’s hands are used to learn the world in order to bring it to his will. 

And she had taken them away. It was harder to bear than Thorin expected. 

Billa seemed to sense it, keeping close, kissing him deeply, almost deep enough to lose himself in it, except for the need for the curve of her shoulder under his palm, the silk of her hair, the sweet dip at the base of her spine where his hand loved to stroke. He wanted the pleasant heft of her thigh in his palms, muscles strong from walking, and how his hand fit, just there, in the crook of her knee, as if she was made to measure for him. 

It was impossible not to think of where all he wanted to touch, places already familiar and treasured. The palms of her hands, trembling under his lips as he kissed them, her breasts, a comfort and delight all at once, supple and firm and such soft skin he nearly feared his calloused hands would catch it, mar it, _oh_ , and softer still the insides of her thighs, high up….he arched, groaning, arms trembling with the need to move. 

“Shhhhh,” Billa soothed him, running her hands over the arms he was willingly kept trapped. She leaned in and placed a chain of nipping kisses up the skin of his inner arm, then as she was switching sides, one kiss slipped from a nip to a bite over a bulge of muscle, and oh, that was…. _oh._

“Is it so very hard, my love?” she asked, whispering as leaned forward to scatter those intoxicating, stinging kisses down the column of his throat. There was a place she lingered, under his ear that he really wished she’d bite harder.

“Shift lower, wife, and see,” Thorin replied, his voice not as steady as he’d like. 

Billa burst into giggles, which she buried in the crook of his neck. Oh Mahal, the feel of her, moving against him, breasts quivering against his chest. He did his best to nuzzle some of her hair out of the way, kiss what he could reach. Billa helpfully bared her neck and arched it for him, and he set his mouth to her skin with a moan, grateful to touch her.

“All in good time, but I meant, is it so very hard _not to touch?_ I got a bit distracted, um,” she gasped as he found the spot on her throat that she had been kissing on his, and bit tenderly, then slightly deeper. She shivered and he groaned his approval, doubling his efforts and then she was gone, moving her lovely neck out of the way to gaze down at him. A gentle thumb covered his lips. 

“So, it _is_ very hard not to touch.” She moved her thumb so he could speak, and stroked the corner of his mouth.

“More than I’d imagined,” he admitted, his voice hoarse. “But,” he hastened to say, as he could see her drawing breath to release him. “Do not stop.” He turned to nuzzle her hand. “Do not stop on my account, my pearl. I have time to think of how I will tend to you, when you release me.” 

“Hmmmm, lovely, but, I think I’d rather have your full attention.” 

“How ever will you get it?” 

Billa’s eyes flared wide with humor and challenge, and she leaned in to suck his lower lip into her mouth, to suck and bite it into a throbbing tenderness, all the while stroking and scraping at that place underneath his ear that seemed to have a line directly to his cock, little jolts of sensation that had him trapped deliciously between her hand and her mouth. 

Thorin was moaning under her attentions, a shudder or two quivering through him as she worked, when she pushed his head to the side and latched on to the sensitized skin of his throat and bit down. He cried out, a deep, melting groan, wanting more and she gave it to him with a little possessive growl, her hand creeping to one of his nipples to pinch firmly. He shook with the need to touch her, to keep her close.

She was overwhelming, moving quickly and firmly from neck to shoulder to nipples, biting down his body, her blunt nails scoring path after path of fire, her palms soothing on his skin. She found sensitive places he hadn’t known he’d possessed and exploited them ruthlessly. The world fell away, and he could hear broken cries dropping from his lips, wordless pleading which changed to desperate need when her teeth bit a line down from his hip, when his cock brushed her cheek. Billa turned her head and brushed her lips softly down his length and he arched his back on a deep, begging moan, panting, struggling, clutching at his own hair the better to keep his promise and not reach for her. 

“I have you, love, I have you,” Billa murmured, leaning back. Her hands left him for a moment and he keened, shifting to where they had last been, lost and cold without them. 

“Love,” she whispered, comforting despite the shake in her voice. “I have you.” And she closed her hand around him and stroked upwards, the perfect caress. Relief and lust punched through him in equal measure, and he rocked his hips into her hand, sighing deeply. Billa, leaned forward and kissed his hip, her hair brushing over him, adding another layer of sensation, and then he felt the silk of it against his thighs and then…

He was used to that full-lipped, slow kiss on his cheek, his palms, but to have her so tenderly kiss his balls, to have her tongue dart out to caress the tender skin…he sobbed, fighting not to arch into her face, eyes sightlessly blinking at the ceiling. As she tended to him, tongue laving and curling, her breath a warm, delicious counterpoint, her wrist twisted as she continued to stroke him and he moaned, restless, hips moving in short snaps into her grip. She paused in her attentions, as if considering, then licked a warm stripe all the way up, making sure his foreskin was back, and brushed a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the head, her tongue stroking him in tiny little licks. 

Thorin panted, whining, growling, straining not to buck, and Mahal, she kept using her mouth, sweeping her wet lips against his length to see if it would improve the slide of him in her hand, making a noise of approval when it did. She gripped him firmly, moving her hand in the same sinuous wave she used when she rode him, and it was, it was…. He shouted, shuddering violently, pressing his feet into the pallet and Billa bucked, moaning, her hand stuttering on his length. 

“Billa,” Thorin groaned, his body winding tight at the sound, grateful, incredulous, that this gave her such pleasure. Breath hitching, she leaned forward and closed her lips over the head of his cock and suckled softly, her hand moving on him all the while, and he was lost, sightless, senseless to all but the feel of his wife moaning around him, trembling through her pleasure, a molten wash of light bearing him up, and then nothing but the sea, roaring, roaring in his ears. 

When he could breathe and hear and see again, he found her lying on his belly, petting him very gently, and he reached his aching arms down to gather her up, give her unhurried kiss after kiss, moaning to find a bitter taste in her mouth, proof she’d drunk him down. His cock gave a feeble twitch of approval and he laughed softly, as he stroked her hair, her arms, her back, greedy for the feel of her skin against his palms. 

“Mizim Azahyaz Alanjuzaz,” he named her, murmuring it between kisses. “Yâsithel, Ghivashel, Shulkbashûd Gimizhazahyi, tûmbâl zigrur.” 

“Kurdu,” she whispered in reply. “What?” 

“Thank you.” 

He felt more than heard her amused snort. “Awful lot of thank you.” 

Thorin hummed, leaning back to smile at her. “All the things you are, Pearl of the Evening,” he kissed her brow. “Yâsithel: wife of all wives.” He kissed her eyelids. “Ghivashel: treasure of all treasures.” He lingered at her mouth a long while, until she was sighing and pressing closer. “And âzyungel: love of all loves.” 

He shifted her to kiss her neck, tenderly latching onto that spot under her jaw that was such a sensitive place for both of them. “Shulkbashûd Gimizhazahyi, tûmbâl zigrur” he said the last names in her ear. “Ocean Wave, whose touch is magic.” 

“So many names.” 

“You are this and more to me, ghivashel, beloved.’” 

“I thought that was treasure….”

"It is also how we say ‘beloved.’”

“Ghivashel,” she named him, her hand coming up to cradle his head as he kissed her throat. He bit her gently, and she moaned, arching into him. 

Surrounding her with touch, as she had him, Thorin feasted on all the parts of her he had longed for earlier. He groaned to weigh her breast again in his palm, feel the gentle rasp of her pebbled nipple against his skin. He suckled on her breasts until she peaked, trembling against his mouth, her hips pressing up against nothing, her legs restless against the blanket. 

When he touched her sex, Thorin found she was wet part way down her thighs and he shivered, pressing his face against her stomach. He brushed his beard across her belly as he parted her folds gently to stroke inside her. She pressed up into the touch, trembling, her sighs asking for more. 

“When I think I understand the depth of your responses, my pearl…it pleased you to tend me.” 

“How could it not?” she responded breathlessly, whining as he brushed over her pearl. “The way you looked, love. The sounds you made. To know I could give you that. Is it not the same for you?” 

“True.” Thorin shifted between her legs, nuzzling his nose through the curls that shielded her pearl. Her hips tilted up, pleading, and he brushed his nose against her. 

“Your lovely mouth….how you used it…” 

“You use yours,” she pointed out, and he could hear the smile in it. 

“Also true.” Sliding his hands under her hips, he tilted her the better to take her, putting his full attention to lavishing upon her as many ways as he could devise to give her pleasure with his mouth, his hands, for a dwarf uses his all to shape treasure to his will, to bring it forth in glowing, shining glory. 

He smiled as he worked, deeply content, listening to her body, her voice sing out for him, and in his ears, his heart, his spirit, she sounded like the peaceful rush of the sea.

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy? I am. Thorin keeps surprising me.
> 
> Do leave a comment, if you like. It's my gravy. :)


	7. Bonus chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's my proof that I couldn't get them to stop making out to actually advance the plot. ::facepalm::

Murkhûn namad (shield brother)

Melhekh (king)

 

A trilling birdcall woke Thorin out of a light doze at sunset. He carefully disentangled himself from his wife, still flushed and warm and soft from the afternoon’s lovemaking, and made sure she was completely covered by the blanket. Stepping into his pants (a pair that forevermore would bear a ridiculous name, even if he never spoke it aloud) he padded to the outer chamber to find Dwalin carrying a small feast. 

“Murkhûn namad,” Thorin greeted him, with small smile. “Your gift to us these last two days; you have my deepest thanks.”

Dwalin looked at him askance. “That’s not terrifying, you picking up Billa’s manners.”

Thorin rolled his eyes. Dwalin sketched a short bow over his tray of food. “No thanks needed, melhekh. I am ever at your service.” 

Taking the tray, Thorin met his friend’s eyes squarely. “You have it anyway,” he said softly. Dwalin bowed again, the tips of his ears and the top of his head red even in the fading light. Thorin turned to go, then looked over his shoulder at his captain and friend. 

“How’d the knitting lesson go?”

Dwalin gave him a wry look. “It looks like something made by a drunken, five-legged spider.” 

“Charming!” Thorin replied brightly. “I’m sure it will be a very fine…knitted thing. ”

Waving him off, Dwalin laughed. “Now you’re just _trying_ to give me nightmares.” 

A final grin, and Thorin went to tend to his wife. 

~~~

Billa was, as ever, slow to wake, despite the savory smells of dinner. Thorin built up the fires in the makeshift braziers against the chill of evening, put his small kettle on the coals to heat for tea and washing, and sat on the pallet to stroke the bridge of her nose, as he’d done before, then her cheek and hair. Eventually, she sighed and turned to nuzzle the palm of his hand. 

“I fell asleep,” she informed him. 

“I see that. I dozed as well.”

Her expression was peaceful and tender when she opened her eyes. “That was more than wonderful, earlier.”

Thorin stroked his thumb over her cheekbone. “Yes. I don’t quite have the words…but yes. I am the most fortunate of husbands.“

“And I.” Thorin gave her a look and she nipped the heel of his hand. “You know what I mean.” 

“I did,” he replied, smiling, and leaned forward for a kiss. “I do.” 

“Do I smell dinner?” 

“I am fortunate indeed that my hobbit wife notices me before the food in the room.” She rolled her eyes and huffed at him. “Will you dine, my pearl?” 

Bombur had provided them with another wedding night meal of cubed meat, cheese, vegetables, and several small loaves of bread with a dish of herbed oil, a kind indulgance Thorin had not expected. He pulled the tray within reach and offered Billa a piece of cheese. She accepted it, heaved a contented sigh, and sat up. Taking piece of venison, she stole a kiss before she offered it to Thorin. 

“Food, I’ve had for a lifetime. You, just these few days.” She paused and laughed. “I believe I’ve won the most romantic thing said this evening.” 

“We were competing?”

“We _are_ competing to who can tend to the other first.”

“A battle I am _occasionally_ grateful to lose,” Thorin admitted. 

Billa blushed, pleased. “Am I completely turning dwarrow marriage customs on their ear?”

“I don't know the intimate details of other's marriages. That we did not have a state wedding might cause some grumbling." He could tell she was about to feel guilty about that, and offered her some venison quickly, which she bit into with a bit of annoyance. “And I do not regret a bit of it.”

She retaliated by offering him some roasted carrot. “Early days, love. It’s going to take some getting used to, living in a mountain. Married to a king. Should we have some sort of ceremony? I’m sure I’ll have to learn all sorts of protocol or risk scandalizing people.”

Thorin regarded her a moment, then brushed her cheek with his knuckles. "We should discuss adding something to the coronation with Balin, perhaps. Also, few would speak out against a couple regarding finding their One, fewer still regarding their king's One. As for diplomacy and protocol, as quickly as you thought on your feet with the trolls, as quickly as you’ve drawn the love of my nephews, and the rest of the company, I am not concerned.”

“Ah, but I didn’t exactly endear myself to you, at first.” Thorin tilted his head, admitting it. Thorin gathered his thoughts as he fed her a bit of cheese. 

“I was angry at Gandalf’s insistence that you were essential, angry at needing such a soft, comely creature completely unsuited for such a journey, angry at dragging you from your home, however willingly, and angry that I was drawn to you.” 

Billa’s eyebrows shot up as she swallowed her bite of cheese. “I expected all but that last one.” Thorin’s answering expression was rueful. 

“Took me awhile to figure that one out,” he grumbled. 

She waited him out through a few bites of dinner, her eyebrows still raised expectantly. 

“I caught myself worrying over you more than I would worry over a company member with lesser battle skills, and it was impossible to deny you were attractive, which was easily explained away by the novelty of your figure and presence in the company, but the way my heart dropped when you clung to the mountainside….”

Understanding blossomed on Billa’s face. “I scared you, your feelings scared you and you tried to push me away.”

“I…yes.” 

Billa sipped some tea, took a few morsels of food for herself, and avoided his gaze for a few moments, effectively shutting him out as she thought. Though he took such quiet moments for himself when he needed to think, he had not realized how difficult it was for the one waiting, and tried not to be restless in his discomfort. Eventually, she drew herself up, graceful and regal in naught but a blanket, and met his eyes squarely. The determination in her expression made his breath catch with pride and desire. Ghivashel.

“We have spoken in general about this, and remember, love, I have forgiven you. But you have a temper. A sharp tongued one. I ask you, going forward, not to speak to me like that again. Argue with me all you like, argue with me about things that I’ve _done_ , or _said_ that have hurt or angered you, but to make things personal like that, just attack who I am…it does nothing but wound and divide. It would make us both miserable. And your people, when they come to the mountain, may be angry that you have a hobbit wife, your One or no. It would be best…it would help me the most if I could…”

“Trust me not to treat you as I did before when my temper is short. We must struggle through together, as you say, in public and private.” He took her hand. “You are right,” he agreed, bent his head and kissed her knuckles. “I cannot speak to you like a soldier who needs a sharp word to maintain order, insults to challenge and light a fire in his belly. And you are right, I made things personal with you. I know better. I was trained better. You have my word I will not do it again.” 

She caressed his cheek. “Thank you, my heart. Now, trained…is this part of the wife lore?” 

“Not all,” he grimaced. “Diplomatic training.” 

Billa tried to keep a straight face and failed utterly. Listing to the side, she giggled, her hand covering her mouth. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t laugh.” 

“I never said I was any good at it.” 

She threw her arms around his neck, hugged him tight, leaned back and pressed her hands to his cheeks. 

“You did quite well with me, a few nights ago. Speaking from your heart to someone who had cause to question the change in you.

“I had great cause to plead my case. Is this the other craft you would teach me then, wife, diplomacy?”

“Other?”

Thorin leaned forward in her hands and she drew his face to her for a kiss. “You are teaching me to open my heart,” he said softly. She fairly glowed at his words. 

He leaned in to steal another kiss and lingered longer than he intended, her mouth and the smoothness of her bare skin a temptation he could not ignore. She made a contented sound and stroked his shoulder as she drew away. 

“My love, I would like that massage you offered, before we join again,” Billa murmured, a charming blush staining her cheeks. “I’m a little…” Thorin reached out to stroke her hair. 

“No need to explain,” he replied, soothing her “And not every kiss or touch needs to lead to our joining, nor do I expect it to.” He shrugged and gave her a crooked little smile, laughing at himself. “You are delightful to touch. That is gift enough.”

Billa replied with the same sort of smile as she ran her hands up his forearms and leaned in until they were nose-to-nose. “You are, too.” She gave him a gentle kiss and sat back down.

As he brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, he realized something. “Nearly every serious kiss had led to us...”

Nodding, Billa offered him more venison. “But, that won’t be true when we’re traveling. Can’t be. So.” She blushed mightily. “I thought we should make the most of it?” He grinned at her, and she pressed both hands to her scarlet cheeks, embarrassed. 

“I am the most _fortunate_ of husbands,” he said seductively, teasing, but still heartfelt. She shivered, blushing even harder, and made an annoyed noise. He pressed his hands over hers, tilted her face for a short, laughing kiss, and let her go to offer her a bit more dinner. “However,” he added mournfully. “We should be careful. We still must be able to walk out of here.” 

Billa clapped her hand over her mouth, trying not to choke or spit out her bite of venison as she gave a muffled snort of laughter. Her eyes were wide over her hand, eyebrows nearly at her hairline. Thorin raised his own brows, and, rounding his eyes earnestly, nodded at her as he tossed a bite of cheese into his own mouth. 

“We have two more days of rest; at the rate we’re going, it could be a concern. There’s exhaustion to consider. Crippling thirst. Potentially fatal chafing.” He looked with dismay at her head. “The horrible things we do to your hair.”

One hand still clapped over her mouth as she laughed harder _and tried_ to chew, she flapped the other hand at him in an effort to clearly have him stop making her laugh. He grinned at her again and stole another piece of venison.

“I asked Dwalin how his knitting lesson went,” he told her as he tossed the meat into his mouth. Billa growled and held up a finger as she chased her food down with some tea. 

“Horrible dwarf!” 

“Majestic idiot,” he corrected her with infinite patience. She smacked his leg.

“Oh my goodness,” she sighed, taking another sip of tea. “You are a menace.”

Thorin inclined his head in thanks.

“I have a mind to…” She trailed off, and accepted a piece of cheese. 

“A mind to?”

Billa chewed thoughtfully, then looked a little put out. “To issue some sort of threat to take my tender skin and sore muscles elsewhere, which I have no intention of actually doing, because it would deprive me of your company.” She eyed him. “Despite your horrible manners, I like you.” 

Thorin inclined his head again, this time both pleased and smug. Billa held out a finger in warning. 

“Expect retribution at a later date, husband.” She offered him a carrot, which he frowned at. She waggled it at him impatiently, and he took it with a minimum of grace. 

“Exhaustion,” she scoffed, as she took another sip of tea. She wiggled as if to find a more comfortable position, tossed her hair over her shoulder and slowly straightened the fallen blanket over her breast, blushing all the while. “I’ve never _slept_ so much during the day in my life.” She smiled serenely as Thorin made a strangled noise and lunged for his teacup. 

“You! You said later.” 

“It is later.” She looked at him warily. “I’m starting to see where Kili and Fili come by their mischief.” 

He toasted her with his tea. “And they must never know.”

“Hmph. I suppose.” Billa sniffed and tugged her blanket higher. “It’s a good thing you’re so handsome,” she muttered. 

“Just handsome?” he teased. 

Billa’s eyes, modestly lowered over her teacup, rose to sweep over his body to look at him, her gaze deep and clear. “No,” she said softly, slowly, and his breath caught. What he saw was not just desire, but the full, honest measure of her heart. The air between them was suddenly charged. 

“I am the most fortunate of husbands,” he said, humbled, his voice husky. 

“Beloved,” she named him, low and sweet.

“Ghivashel,” he named her in return, and leaned forward to kiss her, his hand cupping her treasured face, thumb stroking the corner of her mouth as he drew away. “I love you.”

Her expression blossomed from contentment to joy. “And I you. I am the most fortunate of wives.” 

Pressing his forehead to hers, Thorin murmured. “By Eru, Mahal and Yavanna,” he prayed. “May this fortune in love spread to all we endeavor.” He felt her smile, and she pressed his hand against her cheek.

“May it be so,” she whispered. They clung to one another a long moment, then Thorin cleared his throat. 

“I don’t normally,” he rasped. “It just felt…”

She stroked his hand. “Yes.”

He kissed her forehead again, “My heart is very full.”

“Mine, too,” she replied, voice a little choked. Thorin looked into her face, and brushed a tear from her cheek.

“Happy,” she explained. 

“Happy,” he agreed, unable to look away from her mouth. 

“Dinner,” Billa reminded him. “Exhaustion. Crippling thirst.” 

Thorin gave her forehead one last smacking kiss. “Married people have to have plans.”

“Exactly.” She gave a mighty sniff and leaned back. “So, how did the knitting lesson go?”

“Let me see if I can recall exactly what Dwalin said.” Thorin pretended to think. “Ah. ‘It looks like something made by a drunken, five-legged spider.’” 

Billa laughed. “Oh, bless him. What did Ori think?”

“I have no idea.”

“What’s he making?”

“I have no idea.” 

“I need to teach you to gossip better.” 

“I think that falls under diplomacy,” Thorin said slowly. Billa rolled her eyes at him and made him eat another carrot. He pointedly picked up one for her and dropped it on the floor, then fetched the last one with an extremely innocent expression. She laughed at him, but took it. He watched her with half-lidded eyes. 

“What craft will you teach me, Billa Baggins? I think we can agree that brushing up on my diplomatic skills will come just being married to you. Dwalin’s already remarked on the improvement in my manners.”

“He what?”

“In truth, he said that it was terrifying, and might give him nightmares, but he noticed nonetheless.” Billa opened her mouth to speak and he popped the last bite of venison in her mouth. She made an indignant noise, smacked his leg, and motioned for him to continue talking. 

“I think it was the combined effect of telling him he looked happy and asking about the knitting. And thanking him for his service last night and today.” He leaned forward and confided, “He blushed.” 

Billa looked horrified. “I hope he was not blushing about…” 

“No, no,” he assured her, “It was the thanks, clearly the thanks.” He sighed, pleased. “So, that may prove useful now and again.”

“Strategic application of fine manners?” Billa rolled her eyes. She fed him the last bite of cheese and took a piece of bread for herself. “My love, at its’ heart, that’s what diplomacy _is_.”

“Mmm, slightly less…” he searched for a word that was would not insult hobbit sensibilities. “… _Fine_ manners, usually, with my people, so it will be all the more useful. To disarm.” Thorin replied, watching her drag her bread through the small dish of herbed oil, and bring it carefully to her mouth, one hand underneath her morsel to catch any drips. 

Her lower lip shone from the oil in the firelight, but she licked it clean before he had a chance to do it for her. He took the shielding hand and licked the drips off her fingers, sucking one of them into his mouth, swirling his tongue over her fingertip, and scraping it lightly with his teeth. 

Billa’s gasped, and he watched her as he pressed a lush kiss to the palm of her hand. She inhaled sharply, her breasts lifting beneath the blanket as her breath quickened. He pressed kisses up her forearm until he reached her elbow, where he lingered to kiss as extravagantly as he’d kissed her palm, and added a teasingly light bit of tongue. She groaned, surprised, and shivered, pressing her arm to his lips for more. He kissed the tender crease again, then tried brushing his lips and tongue in a feather light touch. The lighter touch made her tremble, and she melted, her body calling to him. 

Thorin pressed one last small, swift kiss to the inside of her elbow, then drew her arm around his neck as he pulled her into his embrace. Billa’s blanket fell away, and her breasts pressed against his chest, warm and soft, her stiff nipples a serious temptation. He kissed her slowly, deeply, reveling in the feel of her skin, her hair, the small sounds she made. “Dinner,” he said softly, reluctantly taking his hand from her hair. “Though I’m forgetting why that’s important.” 

“Mmm,” Billa agreed, smiling, and started to sit back down, but Thorin reeled her in again. 

“The inside of your _elbow?_ ” 

“I had _no_ idea,” she confessed. “That place on your ribs?” she countered, reminding him of a place, that, under the gift of her sharp kisses, made him cry out, sparks of pleasure flashing behind his eyes. 

“True,” he granted, and gave her a small kiss. “But you are a wonder.” Billa flushed a bit as she drew away to wiggle into her cozy nest of blanket and furs. Thorin watched her lovely body disappear with a twinge of regret as she drew the blanket modestly around her.

“Crafts,” he said firmly. “We were talking of crafts.” 

She looked up at him and smiled, mischief in her eyes, catching somehow his unvoiced regret. She dipped a piece of bread in oil and offered it to him with raised brows, the hand he’d kissed under the dripping morsel, once again protecting the blanket. He inched nearer to her and took it, caressing her fingers with lips and tongue. 

“We were talking of crafts,” she agreed, eyes a little hazy with desire. “I do have some thoughts.” He took her hand and examined it for drops of oil and finding none, kissed the palm lightly. She curled it around his cheek and brushed her thumb over his lips. He drew it into his mouth, sucked on it, and bit it gently. She swayed toward him, face glowing, happy.

“Are we talking, or making love?”

He left off his caresses, and held her hand in his, regarding her thumb thoughtfully. “A little of both, I think.” He gently bit the heel of her hand, and then soothed it with his tongue. “I, too, need a little more time after being tended to so beautifully this afternoon, should you want me inside you.” He kissed the bend of her wrist, watching her from beneath his brow, lingering there as he savored her soft whimper of desire and the tremor that ran through her. “There are many other ways to make love, or simply enjoy one another’s touch. Including that massage.” 

He leaned to kiss her palm again, but suddenly she twisted her wrist, had his hand in a tight grip and was kneeling before him. The blanket had fallen away and she was clad only in firelight, dazzling, and before he could catch his breath to speak, she had his other hand held fast in hers. She pressed their joined hands against his thighs, and looked a playful order at him. Be still. Listen. Thorin gave her a soft smile and inclined his head. 

“Yes, my queen?”

“The crafts I can show you here and now are cooking and some plant lore. I want to make a meal for the company, throw them the best party we can with our resources, to say thank you for our wedding day. I will have to borrow some spices from Bombur, of course his tools, and we’ll need to decide on meat, but I think we can do it without taxing our stores. There are wild onions, berries and mushrooms in the forest, and who knows what else. I found all that the other day without even trying very hard. And I don’t know if you can cook, but I know you can forage. I’d like for you to help me. I can teach you whatever you need to know.” 

Thorin’s smile deepened, as he felt the rightness of it. “You want to throw a hobbit wedding dinner. The forest stands for our garden, and you’ll be teaching me your crafts at the same time.”

She beamed at him. “Yes.” 

He raised one pair of joined hands and kissed her knuckles. “My clever queen. We have done next to nothing to honor your ways. I think that is a very fine idea.” 

“Yes?” She gave a pleased (and very distracting) bounce. He kissed her fingers again. 

“Yes.”

Billa released his hands and wound her arms around his neck. “That settled,” she said, face inches from his, her eyes sparkling. “The night is ours. Kiss me, devour my fingers, give me a massage, but touch me, husband.” 

“That is also a very fine idea,” he replied, and pulled her closer. 

She went to his arms with a sigh of relief, and he laughed softly as he kissed her. She smiled into the kiss, laughing herself, and they kissed playfully for long moments, teasing tongues and nipping at one another’s lips. Billa finally got his lower lip where she apparently wanted it, and drew it through her teeth slowly until he groaned. She opened her eyes lazily at the end of the kiss and smiled a small, smug smile. 

“Ah, I know that light in your eyes,” Thorin said. “But, I have you snug in my arms and the use of both hands. It’s you who will have to wait until I tend to you, this time, before you visit any mischief on me.” 

“Michief?” 

“Mischief, enchantment,” he murmured, kissing down her throat. “You may call it anything you like as long as you wish to tend me as you did this afternoon.” Billa hummed approvingly, until he patted her hip and drew away. “Lie down on your belly and let me get the oil.” 

“One more kiss,” Billa begged, her eyes round and sorrowful. Thorin snorted, amused. 

“I see you put my own tricks to use,” he murmured against her mouth. 

“They’re quite successful.” 

He was chuckling when he took her mouth, but soon set laughter aside to kiss her deeply and catch her close, pulling her into his lap and molding her body to his. A few breaths into the kiss, she trembled against him and melted, sighing into his mouth, and it was just as heady as ever, that surrender, and he groaned softly, moved and grateful. 

Stroking her hair away from her face, Thorin eased back to look into her eyes. “Will you rise for me, wife, and take your pleasure from my hands and mouth before I ease your muscles?” 

Billa made a throaty noise of indecision, and dropped her head back, exposing her throat, which Thorin obligingly leaned in to nuzzle. She sighed and stretched a bit in his arms, making contented noises, and then winced. 

“Billa?” 

“Massage.” 

“Where?” his hands went to her lower back. 

“Sort of hip and...” She unwound her arm from around his neck to show him, starting to turn, and he stopped her. 

“Show me when you lie down instead of twisting. If there is weakness, you could make it worse.” 

“I’m just sore...”

“And we will keep it that way, agreed?” He got his eyes on level with hers. “Agreed?” 

She frowned. “Why am I annoyed that you want to take care of me?” 

“Ah. Because I was going to do terrible things to you with my tongue.” 

She flushed prettily and ducked her head. "Is that what we're calling it now?" 

“Mmm,” he said, kissing her nose and shifting to lift her off the pallet. “Say the word, and I'll be as terrible as you like. However, just now I’m going to do helpful things to you with my _hands_ , and then, perhaps...” They were standing next to the pallet, Billa wrapped wrapped around him, legs curled around his waist. He kissed her softly. “May I tend you, my pearl? Ease your back?” Billa kissed him in reply. 

“Of course. Please.” 

Thorin gently eased her to a standing position, smoothed the blankets out, and gestured for her to lie on her belly. He shucked off his pants and folded them next to his pack, where he dug out a the bottle of oil he used for his skin and hair. When he turned, Billa was smiling at him over her shoulder, gleaming in the firelight, feet kicking playfully against the pallet. She looked him over and raised her eyebrows. 

“If my beautiful wife is so comfortable in our chambers in naught but her lovely skin, it would be rude of me not to assume similar dress.” 

“What lovely manners you have, husband,” she said in an appreciative purr, and Mahal, _that_ was a tone in her voice he’d like to hear more. It went well with the gleam of mischief in her eyes and the graceful confidence with her body and his own that she was growing into. He loved it. 

He hefted the bottle of oil in his hands as he walked to her. “This is the oil I used earlier. If it was available, I’d use scented oils on your skin and hair. That is, if you like them.” 

“I have a bit of lavender oil I got from the sheep at Beorn’s,” she said. But it’s not quite enough to last to keep my hair from drying out and use for massage.”

“Ah,” he said as he settled next to her on the pallet. “That is why you smelled so lovely. I had wondered. It suits you.” He stroked her hair, and moved the mass of it over one shoulder. “In the morning, shall we use it in your hair when I put in your new braids?” 

“Yes, please. I’ve left it out the last two times I’ve washed it. That’s probably why it’s so wild right now.” She sighed as Thorin pressed warm, slick hands to her shoulders and dug in lightly with his fingers. “Oh, I didn’t even realize that was sore,” she murmured. 

“Put your forehead on your hands, Mizim, and let me get all of your shoulders.” Billa moved to do that, but not before she did something really interesting with her hair, coiling it into a knot that held together without pins. 

“Mine would never hold like that.” 

“Oh it doesn’t, not if you move about much, but it’s good in a pinch.” She was quiet a moment as he worked on her shoulders and upper back. “This feels lovely, my heart. I’ve never had a massage like this. Just a friendly shoulder rub or two from a cousin or my father in exchange for tending the garden when his knees were acting up.” 

“Joint problems?” 

“Mmm.” 

“My mother had the similar. She was a skilled jeweler, and as she aged, fine work became difficult. She let me help her sometimes, both in her workshop and to massage her hands. Warmed oil helped.” 

“I’ve never heard you speak of her.” 

“The dragon took her.” 

Billa turned to look at him. “I’m sorry, love, I didn’t know,” she said, her voice soft.

“I know.” He touched her cheek gently. “May we speak of her another time?” He gave her a crooked smile. “It feels strange to talk about her naked.” 

“Oh my goodness!” Billa hid her blushing face in her hands. Thorin huffed out a laugh and stroked down her back soothingly. 

“It’s all right. It’s just that I was about to ask you where you were sore from us joining.” 

“And I ask about your mother,” Billa moaned, then took a decisive breath. “We’re bound to run up against awkward unknowns like this.” 

“Backwards courtship,” the smile was clear in his voice. 

“Yes. So, no discussion of immediate family while naked.” 

“Agreed. Now, where are you sore?” 

“Lower back, thighs, sort of my hips and um....some of my bottom. Where all you’d be sore from. um, riding.” 

He stroked her back soothingly again. “May I touch you to see exactly where?” 

“Of course.” 

His hands were firm and gentle, and he did find out most every place on her back, legs and backside that were sore. She moaned in gratitude when he eased some spots, and some made her wince until he changed the way he stroked her a bit. She melted into the pallet as he worked the oil into her skin. 

Thorin settled carefully astride her, weight barely on her thighs, to work further on her lower back and bottom. Through the haze of her relaxation, Billa felt him above her, his strong legs bracketing hers and the soft swell of his sex brushing against her from time to time. After a few long moments, desire, warm and slow, began to tug at her belly and breasts. She sighed and squirmed slightly. He answered her with a slow kiss at the nape of her neck and the slide of his hands, fingers brushing the sides of her breasts, before he got back to work. 

“When I learned to ride, I was shown some stretches to ease the soreness and help me become more flexible. Dwarrow have to work at that. We are strong, and build muscle easily, but with our crafts and the way we fight, one can become too used to holding the body a certain way. Weak spots develop. I think it would help.”

“That would be lovely.” 

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her shoulder. “Your hips are tight enough that it might hurt at first. And some stretches are a bit....well, I think a female might blush.” 

“Oh dear.” 

“None but me shall see you, I swear.” 

He found a particularly lovely sore spot on her hip joint and eased it. Billa moaned her approval. “Have I thanked you for this yet?” 

“No,” he kissed the nape of her neck again, and remained to whisper in her ear. “But I am glad. Watching you melt like this in my hands is an unexpected delight.” Billa moaned and pressed back against him. 

“Thorin.” 

He nipped her ear lightly. “Not yet, my lusty pearl,” he said, laughing and low, though he pressed himself down lightly, just a hint of his warmth and bulk and she could feel him growing ready for her. She trembled and arched, pressing up, and he brushed against her again. 

“One day,” he murmured and his voice was not laughing any more, a little breathless, “I will ask to take you this way. Intimate in a different manner, to concentrate mainly on the slide of skin, the point of joining. I’ve always wanted to try it.” He mouthed the point of her exposed ear slowly. 

Billa hung onto her concentration by her fingernails. “Wanted to try?” 

“I had books, too, from Erebor’s library, when I was young. They made an impression. More complete than Primula’s novels.” 

“Fiction? Wife lore?” She moaned as he lavished more attention on her ear.

“Wife lore is taught orally,” he murmured, his voice smoky with promise. “For us to memorize in full. For us never to forget.” 

“What then?” Her voice was a little more frustrated than she intended, but then again Thorin had just evaded her attempt to press against him. 

“Of course my bookworm wife would want to know,” he chuckled darkly. “Pillow books. Quite valuable, actually.” 

“What?” 

He put his mouth right against her ear. “Books of nothing but instructions and illustrations on how lovers might join. The one I’m thinking of had particularly beautiful illustrations.” 

Billa keened with longing. “Thorin, please.” She was gasping beneath him, restless. 

“Not yet, my pearl. For it to be really lovely for you, we need a pillow. There is a place inside of you that is best stroked from behind, or if I put my fingers inside you and crook them a little. A pillow that would tilt your hips just so would let me stroke you there each time I slid inside you.” 

Billa shuddered all over and beat one fist against the pallet. “You are a horrible tease,” she growled. 

“Not a tease if I promise to deliver later.” 

“Husband,” she said, body shaking but voice firm and sure. “Come to me now. Please.” 

Thorin groaned, long and low, and pressed his forehead to the nape of her neck. “You nearly undo me, even now, after a day of joining again and again,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. He rested his weight on her and thrust a few times, torturously slow, and Billa’s breath caught. It would be very intimate this way, she realized, him surrounding her, sliding against her. It pressed her into the blanket, rasping pleasantly against her nipples, and his weight and the movement somehow put just enough pressure against her pearl to be tantalizing. 

“Husband,” she growled. “Make do.”


	8. A pause, as it were.

Hey, y'all. 

I'm going to fold this ever-sprawling epilogue into my rewrite/AU of Pearl of the Evening, which I think has a bit better handle on the characters. I got stuck after this last chapter, trying to move Thorin & Billa out of their honeymoon bubble out into the world. Frankly, they didn't want to go. Also, I became increasingly aware of corners I'd painted myself into and plot holes that were waiting to swallow me up. I began to not want to go over there and try to keep throwing patches on it, and it's my fic, so I decided to go for it. 

The "New" Pearl of the Evening is essentially this story, remixed a bit, but most importantly for me _giving Billa and Thorin more pre-wedding bonding and backstory._ Don't worry; this world will not be going away, and there are parts of this tale I'm really proud of that will be included in the "new" version. I'll be remixing up through the honeymoon, and then I will be continuing the story on through the end of The Hobbit and post book.

Thanks for your enthusiasm and your patience, and as always, your comments. Very much treasured.

[Here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/886745) is Pearl of the Evening - The Rewrite. 

Also, you might check out the M/M version of Pearl, [There And Sass Again - A Love Story.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/893495/chapters/1724746)

**Author's Note:**

> Spirit is the epilogue of Pearl of the Evening and the beginning of the next (completely unintended!) series, The Making of a Queen, which began coming to me in full scenes as I was writing this. I am writing the two fics in tandem, and neither are quite finished yet. Thanks for taking this very unexpected journey with me. (Honestly! It was supposed to be a one-shot!)


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